Alone and Remembering
by sivvussa
Summary: Developed from an alternative ending for EM. Daine is captive in Carthak while Tortall prepares for war. Numair knows she's there and has to choose between destroying his enemy, or Daine.
1. Chapter 1: Lost Lies

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Remembering

Chapter 1: Lost Lies

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A/N 15.4.07: Right! I've gone through the entire story and re-written it: added some extra bits, taken some stuff out, and generally made it better! Thanks to everyone out there who emailed me about this story- yes, I am finishing it, yes, I'm doing it this year, just needed to reformat it first.

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_The ship sailed at twilight, melding into the heat haze effortlessly and disappearing from her life. _

_She didn't know how they'd convinced him to stay with them, how they'd kept him from staying in the hot, sultry land. She only knew that she was alone, more alone than she'd been for years. _

_A tear traced slowly down her cheek as she remembered every other person she had lost to get to this point. Her ma, her village… everything had been taken from her. _

_She had thought that now, things would be better. He had taken her hand and drawn her away from the pain, the madness, into his world. The pain had died away, and she had forgotten. For a few brief years, the world seemed beautiful and free. Like a fool, she had thought it would last forever. _

_She had known friends, companions, who loved her in their own way and had been there for her. Now she had nothing. _

_Even her friends in this alien land had been taken from her. She swallowed, feeling sick as she remembered the vivid dreams she knew to be true. Zek was dead, the marmoset murdered by the man who now held her prisoner. Kitten, enchanted and confined…_

_Even the Gods had abandoned her, as they'd abandoned that whole land. _

_She didn't even try to escape. What was the point? She had no-one left to turn to, and nowhere to go. Maybe a few years ago she would have tried, but now she was alone. Abandoned…_

_She stared at the white plaster wall and remembered. There was nothing else to do. Shadows stood starkly out underneath her dulled eyes, salt clung to her long eyelashes. Soft brown curls tangled down her back, unkempt and uncombed. The elegant green wool dress she wore could have been a rag for all the regard she wore it with. _

_She remembered._

Ozorne had unlocked the door as soon as her friends had left. His gilded eyes gleamed; his whole demeanor was that of a victorious knight who had won the war. He grinned, gloated, and grimaced at her when she persistently ignored him.

"You should be grateful. You're a poor penniless child." His voice was harsh and authoritative, but became cloyingly sweet, "Here, you can have everything you've ever dreamed of. _They_ didn't appreciate you and they never would have. All they cared about was getting you to fight for them- if you were a kitchen maid, they wouldn't care two figs about you. They didn't even wait for you before they left."

He rested a hand heavy with rings on her shoulder in what he must have thought was a comforting gesture. She shook the hand off and stepped away from him. "Those are my _friends _you're lying about." She snapped, fury burning in her eyes.

The Emperor shook his head tolerantly, as if she were a disobedient child. "I _like _you, Veralidaine. My birds must love you too, I know."

"They will peck your eyes out the instant you enter their cage." She replied coldly. From the next room, she could hear muffled cheeps as the birds in the aviary detected her anger and were frightened by it. Ozorne smiled indulgently and shook his head.

"You should be more grateful for what I'm going to do for you, Veralidaine. I have a gift for you to help you understand your new position." He gestured to a slave outside the door, who bowed and handed the emperor a large metal ring. The loop resembled a bracelet, in thickness and style, although it was far too large to fit around a wrist. Daine's blood ran cold as she saw it. Ozorne's smile widened nastily.

"I see you already know what this is. Good." He ran a shining finger along the edge of the ring, which commenced to glow. "As you can see, this collar has been specially adapted to block any magic use, and that _includes_ wild magic. I'm not quite as behind in my research as your…_ex_-teacher liked to believe."

It was useless to resist, in a small enclosed room with two burly slaves standing guard at the door. Instead, she stood straight and proud as he broke the ring in two and clipped it around her throat, pushing back the mess of curls gently to expose the skin.

"There. I'll leave you to think." The Emperor released his hold on the ring and gently caressed the girl's cheek. Daine flinched away and glared at him as he left the room, sealing the door behind him.

It was only when the footsteps receded that she sank to the floor, tearing at the collar and where he had touched her, screaming and crying bitter tears.

Not two corridors away, Ozorne was grinning to himself, the gold paint around his eyes cracking with the unfamiliar smile-lines. He strolled along beside his entourage of slaves, humming a jig under his breath and congratulating himself on his incredible success.

In one simple action he'd started a war that he'd easily win, acquired a new slave to care for his birds, and got revenge on the traitorous man who cared for her. Maybe the damn fool even loved her! The agony he must be feeling! The emperor rubbed his hand together with glee, reveling in the thrill of revenge.

Not that he thought the traitor would sit on his hands and do nothing. No, Ozorne was sure he'd come back. It was all part of the simple, sweet plan. Ultimate revenge: humiliation, pain and death. He'd show that he was no soft ruler, ready to let traitors come and go as they pleased. The arrogant Tortallans would learn _that_ the hard way, while the rest of the world admired his benevolence in not targeting _them_. Tortall would suffer, and the people would love him for it.

And then there was the girl, Veralidaine. Beautiful, talented- and she despised him. Perfect. It would be hard to conform her to the slave's way of life, but by no means impossible. If he knew anything about mages, most would do anything to get their powers back. Or their pet dragons. Ozorne mentally added wryly.

He had a lot to bargain with, and nothing to lose.

_War._

_A constant thunder of footsteps, of couriers knocking on your door, of people needing your advice, when all you really wanted to do was be alone. But of course that's the last thing they want you to do. They want you to forget about friendship, about years of never being separated. Comrades in arms._

_Laugh together. Cry together. Sharing thoughts, dreams, experiences. Seeing the world through new eyes. Caring when they're in pain, laughing when they laugh. Drying tears. Laughing. Crying. _

_War, though, is not about friendship._

"We're at war, damn it!" Yelled King Jonathan, resisting the urge to shake the taller man, shake him out of the strange mood he dwelled in. Numair broke out of his thoughts and glared at the irate monarch.

"Yes. I had noticed." He said dryly, commencing his pacing of the small room. Myles watched him, his eyes understanding but hard. The whole argument had started from his issuing the mage a mission, and suddenly the room seemed to have exploded. He idly wondered if Alanna's ability to start fights was catching.

"If you know, then you should bloody listen to your instructions!" Spat Jon, throwing himself sulkily on a hard chair.

"I heard you just fine." The tall mage stopped for a second, then changed direction and paced again. "I just… refuse to comply with your wishes. I think they're irrational and misguided, to be honest."

Jon made a strangled noise and looked at Miles for support. The older man shrugged, trying to hide his amusement. Surely Jon realized that Numair would only agree to do the one mission they could not give him? Miles had decided that from being in the same room for two minutes, and he barely knew the man. No, they were both too busy glaring at each other to think about it.

"Explain." The king snapped shortly.

"I don't see how my spying in Galla…" Numair cleared the clogging memories from his throat loudly and tried again. "I don't see how my spying in Galla will aid you. We're at war with Carthak, not them. And if anything happens, I'll be too far away to return…so, unable to fight."

"Ozorne is smart enough to send spies through our peaceful neighbors." Jonathan started.

"We simply can't risk you returning to Carthak, Numair." Cut in Myles softly, deciding it had gone far enough. "It's too dangerous for you there. I'm very sorry."

"I can look after myself!" The mage snapped, stung.

"But, if you go,_ you_ won't be the one you're looking out for, will you." Jon didn't even to bother phrasing it as a question. His eyes were frustrated, but held a hint of pity. "I'm really sorry. Everyone who _is_ going will search for Daine, you know that."

"No-one in Carthak will have the time or the resources to care for an unarmed girl, especially if she's been hurt. And they're all spies- they can't jeopardize themselves by getting involved. Rescue attempts are certainly out of the question. Everyone's looking out for their own skins." Replied Numair frostily. Jon nodded slowly. Myles broke the long silence in the end.

"Numair- we know you care for her more than any of us. Please remember this wasn't an easy decision for us either. And, before you throw your life away in a futile attempt to find our wildmage, know this: Daine cares for you more than she likes her animals, or loves kitten. I've seen it in the way she talks to you, the way that you're the first person she defends when you're under attack. She wouldn't want you to destroy yourself over meager hopes."

Numair stared at the older man, his dusky skin paling. Without a word he spun on his heel and left the room. Jon moved to follow him, but the older man stopped him.

"Let him go. Let him think."


	2. Chapter 2: Hope

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Remembering

Chapter 2: Hope, Comfort and Safe Passage

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It annoyed her profusely, the way he was always happy. He always hummed, or grinned. He was never visibly angry or upset, despite her best efforts to irritate him. For now, she decided, she would concentrate on making the man as angry as possible.

She didn't know about anything that was going on outside the tiny room, but she knew that it must be serious. Her friends couldn't help her, but they _would_ fight the emperor to their last breath. He must be angry about that, surely? Maybe if she made him angry enough he would let slip some news she couldn't get any other way…

Today he strode into the cage, and you could almost see the waves of triumph rolling from him. Daine didn't bother to look up. She liked the bare plaster wall more than she liked him. Ozorne checked himself when he found he was being ignored (again) and nodded to one of the slaves guarding the door. Almost instantly the wildmage found herself being dragged upright to face him.

She struggled against the death grip, mentally willing the slave to help her. If they worked together, they could escape and be free! The slave noticed the pleading expression in her eyes, and his own dark orbs narrowed threateningly into a silent threat. Defeated, Daine sighed and stood up straight, ignoring the painful grip on her arms, and examined the emperor.

He already looked annoyed. Oh, good!

What else would madden him..? Daine spat on his impractical gilded boot and glared into his eyes. He glared back.

"You'd best settle down, miss, and cooperate with me. You're a slave now, like all the others. Don't think yourself better than them."

"No," She retorted, "They're _as good as _me, which is far better than you could ever be."

Ozorne smiled, as if he'd expected her to say that. Still holding the righteous expression, he nodded again at the slave. The collared man silently and efficiently twisted her arm around her back, sending bolts of pain across her spine.

"S-see." She gasped through beads of sweat, "You don't even do your own dirty work."

The emperor leaned closer to her, almost nose to nose. "Trust me, Veralidaine. When the time comes I do _all_ my own dirty work." He whispered. "And there's no point you defying me. Your teacher is…" He tailed off. "I thought I'd tell you earlier, but now…" He shrugged and turned away, heading for the door. Daine stopped struggling and stared at him, her face turning so white it looked like bone.

"Wait!" She cried to the retreating back. "What is it, about Numair? Please tell me! Please!"

Ozorne grinned at the door exultantly and smoothed his features into a frown before he turned to the girl. _Please, _formed her lips silently.

"Well, it's nothing exciting. He was heading for Galla and he died _horribly_ on route. Or was it just that he disappeared?" Ozorne fanned himself absently. "I never could remember those insignificant details. Let her go." He said to the slave. The girl fell to the floor, almost as pale as the plaster covering it. Her eyes filled with tears as she stared at him in shock.

"Dead?" She whispered. She shook her head slowly. "No… no, he can't be dead… please tell me…he's not dead…"

"I wouldn't lie to you, my dear." The cloying sweetness in the man's voice made her feel sick. She kept shaking her head, almost unaware she was doing it.

Ozorne knelt, eye to eye with her, by now totally devoid of humor. "You see? If you cooperate you'll be treated well. I'll even tell you what's happening to your friends." He stood up and dusted his hands and knees meticulously. "Of course- if you continue to resist…" He gestured to the slave. The sleeping potion was forced down her throat before she even realized what was happening.

The world went hazy once again, red angry streaks of mist. She could almost hear Ozorne's cruel, cold laughter, almost see the room spinning. Someone picked her up; the swaying as they started to walk made her feel dizzy…

_Hold on, Daine! I'm coming!_

Was that a real voice? She shook her head groggily and listened. Nothing. The red streaks darkened to a pool of inky murk. With a sigh she sank into its depths.

_Fight them! Don't give up!_

She struggled from the mire, tried to open her eyes, fought against the one that carried her. Her body refused to obey her, moving slowly and sluggishly. Her eyes wouldn't open at all. The only thing that worked were her ears, carrying the tale of Ozorne's laughter and the slave's muttered curses. The black depths beckoned, and this time she drowned, surrounded by empty oblivion.

_It's a form of madness, obviously. _

_One moment you're well, and sane, on the road to peaceful lands, the next you're betraying your friends and risking your neck. _

_It must be strange kind of disease, hard to catch. The symptoms are hard to recognise, except by someone who has suffered from it and won. It is caused by one of two things._

_The first: Hate. It attacks with deep shafts of poison, infecting the heart and the mind. A pain that burns, a fire that quenches reason in it's burning fury. The disease affects soldiers, dying for their beliefs in battlefields, and women who turn against their abusive husbands. The disease for hate is catching, affecting all it touches with it's germs of sorrow and fear. The only cure to be prescribed is the axe, the noose or the flame._

_The second cause- it's the one that all try to ignore. Most of the diseased victims deny being infected until their hearts burst open, until food turns to ash in their mouths and a warm fire only melts at the outer shell of their heart. Many of the victims try to cope with the disease, never seeking a cure and suffering with its pangs. The only cure is the only pain. The infected suffers more when those around them are well, and clear of its traces. _

_Hate and Love._

_And a combination is the deadliest disease of all._

"Ahm be sorrie, maister, but ahm not doin' no sailin' to th'mainland." The scrawny little man didn't even look up from the continuous whittling. "Thair at war, ye'see. Too dain-jarus."

"It is essential I reach Carthak as soon as possible." The second man towered over the seated sailor, his pockmarked skin drawing shadows from the bright sunlight. Absentmindedly, he rubbed his silver beard. If the man had looked up from his carving, he might have seen the glint of magic as the man's appearance flickered slightly in the bright light, then became stronger. Although he looked like a swarthy Tortallan sailor, his accent and speech seemed more suited to the courts. "Naturally, I'll pay you well."

Something chinked invitingly. The whittling knife stopped for a moment, resting against the prow of the tiny wooden ship. The scrawny man swallowed uneasily, but then commenced carving. "Ahm Bint Smithsson. What be ya'ur name, then, ser?"

The tall man was silent for a time. Bint wondered uneasily if he'd offended the stranger, calling him _sir_. It seemed that whoever he was, he didn't want to be recognized. Normally he'd report such a person to the town guard, but… something stopped him. Something that chinked invitingly.

He was just about to apologize when the man found his tongue. "I'm Aaron…" He cleared his throat, "I'm Aaron Sarralim. When's the nearest time you'll be ready to set sail?"

Chink. "Uh… an hour's time?"

A silver coin magically appeared in Aaron's hand. "That would be great." He grinned, looking a good ten years younger, and gave the coin to the sailor as a down payment. Bint dropped the carving, sheaved the knife, and ran to ready his small two man boat.

Aaron's grin faded. In an attempt to kill time he walked around the tiny bay, staring out to sea. Grey waves splashed against the half-submerged rocks, pulling coracles free of their moorings and crushing them to splinters. Silver spray, borne by the breeze, caressed the traveler's face. It stung burnt skin and scratches but was still a welcome relief from the sun.

The last few days had seemed unreal. One minute he was on the road to Galla, with Jon's blessing and Myles' suspicious look. They had traveled until nightfall, the small troop of soldiers he rode with on their way to border patrols laughing and joking. He hadn't joined in- there didn't seem to be anything to smile about.

When night fell, the guards efficiently set up a camp and sentries. No-one could move in or out of the clearing without being seen. Numair smiled wryly when he realized that was probably just what Miles intended. The man probably knew he couldn't stop Tortall's most powerful mage from doing what he wanted, but if he deserted, they would know exactly when and where he was headed.

That night, a thick mist settled over the clearing. The sentries peered at it in confusion, dismissing the black sparks in it as a trick of their eyes and the moonlight. As they stared at it, the sparks became brighter and brighter, a beautiful lights display that lulled them to slumber. They fell asleep where they stood, leaning on spears and halberds. Numair slipped out of the camp unseen, shaking his head over the stupidity of soldiers. As far as Tortall was concerned, he simply disappeared.

He had walked quickly to the nearest port, constructing his disguise as he went. He hid the auro of his gift as best he could, and became "Aaron". He'd singled out the most mercenary looking sailor he could find- one who wouldn't talk of strange passengers if paid enough.

And now, he had to wait.

Far out to sea a ship sailed, its flags easily visible in the reflected light. Dark skinned sailors swarmed over the deck, among the many flashes of sun reflecting on armour and weapons. They laughed happily as they pointed out the rich green shore, so different from the burning deserts they knew. They laughed, as they waited to kill…

Aaron ground his teeth and spat in the sand, rage and anguish filling his heart with stony resolve.

"Hold on, Daine." He whispered raggedly. "I'm coming! Fight them! Don't give up!"

The wind blew his words away, curling around the mage and flying out to sea. Dark clouds gathered ominously over the village, small spits of rain turning the dust into mud. The words echoed around the small bay, trapped in the breeze, the wind pulling them about curiously.

_When you've lost everything, there's no turning back. _The rain whispered, running down the rocks and kissing the sea in greeting. The sea whirled around the huge stones and did not reply.

_Sister, some things lost can easily be found again. _The wind cut in, blowing the delicate drops asunder. The rain sulked for a second, and then condensed on the rock, into the form of a tiny elemental, which sat down and ran a hand in the sea. Petite salt crystals ran up her arm, forming a glittering armlet, before they dissolved. She sighed and waved an insubstantial hand vaguely.

_I don't think so. You can be breezy about it, but I can't. I'm naturally wet. Soppy._

The wind howled its laughter, spinning into a cone, and a form of its own, next to Rain. Both the tiny sprites sat for a second, watching the tall man walk towards the harbor. Rain's expression pitied as she watched him, the tears of morning dew in her eyes.

_Perhaps we should help? _She said uncertainly.

Wind sighed and shooed some errant breezes away from Rain. _There's nothing we can do_.

_There's nothing you **should** do! _The sea roared, its face appearing in the frothing foam around the rock. _You've been duty bound, sisters! Do not interfere! _

_I don't care. _Rain looked unusually mulish for a being you could see through. _I think we should help. We didn't help them when the barrier collapsed, did we?_

_We didn't have to! We weren't allowed to! _A huge wave crashed over the rock, the words thundering in its aftermath. Wind sighed breezily and sent a strong current of air against the wave, turning it to froth before it hit them. The sea span in eddies and currents, frustrated. _You may be as sweet as mountain springs, Rain, but you should at least have more sense! Don't let your element rule you!_

_I'm only as sweet as you are bitter! _The elemental retorted. The sea roared and crashed a second wave against the tiny being. Abruptly losing interest in the conversation, she laughed and danced in the spray, and then sent a mist of rainwater back at him. The sea grumbled sulkily to itself and settled down.

_**I** will help. _Interrupted Wind suddenly, standing up and swinging on to a breeze. _The most important gift you can give to anyone is hope. I caught his words; I can carry them safely to the girl's ears. _It stretched up its arms, its form being gradually eroded by the winds, which built in strength as it flew away.

_How do you even know who she is?! _The sea roared, chasing after her retreating form. Rumbling to itself when it received no answer, it raced back to the rock where Rain was standing, crashing against the rocks in its haste and creating another deafening spray.

_I guess we're involved, now. _It murmured, it's foamy face uneasy in the current. _Whatever we do, we're in trouble… _

_Then_ _**I** will give the man the gift of comfort. _Rain hissed, jumping into the air and exploding into a thousand dazzling drops. The sea watched its sisters disappear in their different directions. Its vast mind was troubled.

_I will give a safe passage, then. _It stayed unnaturally still for a moment, and then resumed its never ending pattern. _And keep the Gods distracted. _

A large fleet of ships floated over the sea's great back. It rumbled its laughter, becoming the malicious demon of the seas that all sailors feared. _Perfect._


	3. Chapter 3: Messages

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Remembering

Chapter 3: Messages

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_What is freedom? Does it even exist? Is it a being, sitting on the tops of walls and embracing the bars of cages? Is it the whim of an unknown god, a toy to torment lesser beings with? If so, then what is constraint?_

_Is it being confined to a room, to a space, being unable to move, to smile, to speak to the people you love?_

_Is it being bound in the bars of loyalty and love, torn between two cages?_

_Or is it escaping your boundaries, only to find that all you want to do is go back, and curl up safely in a corner?_

Wind soared high over her brother, surfing effortlessly on the air currents. Every so often it would squeal with the fun of it, the freedom, and the speed. It swooped playfully around the mast of one of the huge ships, blowing lightly at all the sailors on deck, who instantly raced after their airborne maps and documents. Laughing shrilly, the sound of a whistle through the eye of a needle, it spun on the currents and sped off again.

The elemental sang as it raced along, the song of the winds. It was a song that had been sung for centuries, a song that heralded the smallest breeze and the deadliest tornado. The harpies knew some of it, the banshees a little more, the basilisks knew maybe a tenth of it. All the immortals used the song as deadly weapons.

Wind laughed again, and sang for the fun of it.

It was spiraling the domes of the palace before the day was over, raising dust clouds as she searched for the girl. It sped down dusty halls, whispering its message to a crying slave, bleeding in a corner. The girl stood up slowly with new resolve. It whispered it to a tired cook, sobbing over a stove, who dried her eyes and smiled slightly, tremblingly. It whispered it to a mage, who glared around him and shut she window. It whispered its way through the palace.

Its flight was stopped abruptly by the sight of a girl, who must have been the one the message was for. She was the only northerner in the palace, and obviously _needed_ The Hope. Wind drifted silently into the room and watched, as the gilded man tormented the girl with human words and lies. The elemental watched passively as the muscular man behind the girl grabbed her neck and forced a small vial of potion open into her mouth. She collapsed as soon as she was released, curled up on the cold stone floor.

_Hold on, Daine. _Whispered Wind, touching the girl's cheek lightly. The gilded man laughed as she stirred slightly and gestured arrogantly to the slave, who stooped to pick the girl up. Wind could feel the girl losing consciousness as she was carried from the room. Belatedly the elemental remembered the last part of the message. She swooped after the girl. _Fight them! Don't give up!_

The girl stirred again and moved her clenched fists, sluggishly failing to do anything. Wind hovered, puzzled, then returned to the cell where they'd come from, whirling around the broken vial on the floor. Dreamrose, and something else…

-_Paraplent.- _Remarked a voice from behind the elemental, who instantly whirled into her form and bowed deeply. –_A strange little plant, grown in the Yamani islands. It's…-_

Wind straightened and nodded. _I know of it, Graveyard Hag._

The crone grinned and sat down in a pool of silvery light, invisible to eyes in the mortal plane. _–I should be angry at you, dearie. You and your sister. I know what you're up to. I just can't find it in my tender heart to be angry at you…-_

_What do you want, noble one? _Cut in Wind. The Hag shook her finger at her and grinned.

_-It just so happens that I want to help you, in the interests of the girl being freed. Now listen. They've drugged her with Paraplent, which is a muscle relaxant. Why do you think they've done that, dearie?- _She ploughed on without giving Wind a chance to answer. _–They're _afraid _of her, or of him. They know the mage is coming back at any rate. They want to harm or humiliate Daine, because they hate him, and the stupid man loves her. But they don't want to kill Daine by any means.- _The Hag stood up with a groan and winked at the Elemental. _–Think about it.-_

Silver light flared- too bright for even Wind to see through. By the time her eyes had cleared, the goddess was gone.

"Tis uncanny" muttered Bint, grasping the boat's heavy wooden rudder with one shaking hand. 'Aaron' nodded, white under his tan.

The tiny boat slid gracefully in the calm water, bobbing slightly in the tiniest swells. Around them, a storm raged. Rain hurtled down, striking at the Carthaki ships like arrowheads, while wind blew their sails to shreds. The unfortunate soldiers screamed, yelling to the sailors, to the generals, to the mages, to the gods. Occasionally a small gust of wind, a sprinkle of rain, reached the two men on the boat, but that was all. A bubble of calm surrounded them, more powerful than anything the mage could conjure. His expression was frankly incredulous as he gazed over the side of the boat into crystal clear depths.

"Impossible." He whispered, entranced. Tinkling laughter rang in his ears, more like the fall of water on glass than anything else the mage could describe. But there was no glass on the boat- it was far too expensive… he looked around curiously.

That sound again- like glass beads being flung into a bowl. Aaron shook his head irritably and walked up to Bint. "Hey, you want me to steer for a while?"

The sailor winced, a shade of green apparent around his lips. "Please. I think I'll… I'll go get a drink." He left the rudder and staggered to the cabin, disappearing down into the inky depths. Aaron grabbed the tiller and steered, thinking. On an impulse, he released the wooden staff and stood back.

The ship stayed dead on course. Tinkling laughter rang in his ears. '_Damn, that's disturbing.' _Mused the mage, pulling absentmindedly on his nose and trying to return to his thoughts. An ice cold flurry of rain brought him out of his reverie with a yelp.

Tinkling laughter. Was there _words _in it? Aaron shook his head and half smiled at his lunacy. The glass drops chimed again, and again.

"Shut the hell up!" He yelled, shaking his fist at… what? The wind? The rain? A cold shower flew once again into his face, with it came the laughter, and the words. Clearer this time:

_Take comfort. We will help you! _

"I'm going mad." Whispered the mage. The laughter chimed shrilly once again, beating through his ears, attacking his thoughts, ripping through his mind like a knife. He yelled and clutched his head, screwing up his eyes from the pain.

Then, suddenly, it was gone. Strange lights flashed in his eyes, like sunspots… but in a storm.

"Hmm. Interesting." Said a bubbly voice. The mage bolted upright so fast he hit his head on the tiller. Swearing, he blinked the sunspots from his eyes and peered around.

"That looked painful." Commented the small, translucent figure, who was sitting on the side of the boat. Aaron blinked a few more times, then studied it intently. It seemed to be female, thin and see through as it was. Features could be seen through a permanent mask of running water, a small nose, grinning mouth, and enormous clear eyes that brimmed full of tears, trickling slowly down its face, melding with its waterfall-robe. It was about as tall as his forearm, he guessed, then realized he was staring and blushed.

"Are you all right?" He asked quietly, daring to believe in it, "You're crying."

The tears vanished. Instantly, the rain stopped. The being laughed again at the incredulous look on the mage's face.

"You-"He croaked, then cleared his throat and tried again. "You're the… sorry." He swept a grand bow. "Elemental Rain, I greet you."

Rain nodded solemnly and stood up. "I'm sorry for causing you some discomfort- it is essential that you are able to see us. The Graveyard Hag told us to help you."

"Mithros, Mynoss and Shakkith! Why? What does that…" Gasped the mage, before belatedly realizing it mightn't be a good idea to blaspheme when in the presence of a god. The elemental twinkled at the look on his face.

"Don't worry. We like her even less than you do."

"But…what do you mean?" Numair tried to think of any reason the Elementals would want him to see them. Rain looked at him closely for a second, tears beginning to fall down her cheeks again.

"This is for hope." She said without explanation, then heard the sound of footsteps on the deck. Abruptly, she raised a hand in salute. "Farewell." She disappeared in an explosion of water, instantly soaking Aaron to the skin.

"Wait!" He shouted hoarsely, "You didn't say-!"

"Who're ye shoutin at?" Groaned a voice from behind him. Bint staggered up the steps, clutching a small canteen. Aaron glanced quickly around him, but all he could see was the sea, the spray blown up by the wind, and the heavy raindrops. A groan brought him back to reality- Bint was industriously throwing up over the side.

"I think you've had too much to drink."

Bint ignored him with all the pride he could muster. "I c'n nivver have too-oo…" He staggered as the ship rolled playfully. "Shouldn' ye be at t'wheel?"

"No need." The mage said, smiling truly for the first time in days. "I think the gods are on our side."

"Damn the gods!" a rough northern voice snarled, fear mixing with the vehement curse. Unsteady footsteps thundered on the solid wooden planks, slowing each time the ship pitched forward. There was no knock, just another curse seconds before the cabin door flew open.

The clean-shaven captain looked up from a pile of maps angrily. The upstart mage had been dispatched on his ship two days ago, and already he had proven to be an arrogant, selfish and un-seaworthy addition to the crew. His orders for the storm were to stay in his cabin, out of sight and out of mind. And could he even do that?

"I don't care if you _are _a mage!" He spat in Carthaki, "This is _my_ ship, and when on it you follow _my _rules and protocol."

"Your ship is _sinking!" _cried the mage in the same language, accenting the guttural words by furiously running a hand through his copper hair. "This isn't just a storm, it's flaming… sorcery!"

"Sorcery can't control the weather!" Hissed Captain Xitan, standing up just as the ship tilted alarmingly. Both men staggered.

"You look outside, then!" Gasped the mage, clutching a rafter to gain his balance. "Look to the west- there's a boat…" he staggered again as the deck tilted alarmingly. "There's a boat, and there's a mage on it, and…guess what! _They're_ not affected by this storm!"

The captain cursed fluently and ran to the ladder, scrambling up into the storm. The weather was quickly getting worse, great walls of water splitting up the fleet. Icy rain sluiced down, combining with the sea spray and making every breath he drew feel like drowning.

Screams reached his ears- one of the nearby vessels was sinking, its mast splintered, its crew slowly drowning. Strange beings dragged sailors from pieces of driftwood, merfolk with jointed silver tails, flashing sadistic smiles full of sharp silver teeth at the men before they dragged them into the depths of the sea.

Two such creatures were tossed by the waves near to the ship. Heedless of the vicious sea, they both held the arm of a struggling sailor, arguing over him. As Xitan watched, they ripped the man in two. Shrill laughter bubbled towards him, somehow beautiful even though it came from such terrible creatures.

Tearing his eyes away from the bloody chaos, he glanced west. Sorcery, said the mage? He searched the sea intently, trying to see through the solid wall of water. There- in a valley between immense waves- a small fishing boat, bobbing happily on the waves, was sailing through summery seas. Two black shapes that could only be people were sat on the deck, not steering the ship, just sitting there. The captain's mouth twisted in a cruel sneer.

_Sorcery it may be, but killing the damn mage should be easy._ He thought.


	4. Chapter 4: Awakenings

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Chapter 4: Awakenings

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_Waking up..._

_Sleep's always seemed strange. Full of life, wanting every minute of your life to be yours and yours alone, you never wanted to go to sleep until you couldn't force your eyes to stay open. When you grow up a little bit you might force your head onto that pillow, ready for the next days work- but always with reluctance._

_When you're asleep, it's the best place in the world. You go to a place where no one can touch you, where everything's fine and soft and warm, where you only meet people you love. Once upon a time you had nightmares, and wrenched yourself from their grip, only to be scared of the shadows in the corners that stay even when you light your candle with shaking hands. But now they protect you, they keep the demons away until dawn breaks over the land._

_It's when dreams infuse with reality that they're the most powerful, a linkage of minds. But, of course, Ganiel never allows such things in his domain._

_She seemed aware of the nightmare, it was at the edge of her mind, but the man kept it away from her. _

_"Wait," He whispered, "Don't look."_

_She tossed her head impatiently, scared yet curious, already bored of the soft haven he'd created around her with his glittering magic. The only thing that stopped her charging past him and looking was the expression in his eyes- love and worry for her, captivating her._

_The demons tried to tear her eyes away. She felt herself move, try to see past. Something hideous tried to draw her away from him; she started shaking with terror._

_"No!" He caught her and hugged her, protecting her within his tight embrace and dragging her away from the nightmare. "Never look. Never look your enemy in the face without fighting every step of the way." Something made her struggle against him, something called her to it… he cupped her face in his hand and met her gaze with his black, fierce eyes._

"_Don't look! Never turn away from me! Promise you won't leave me!" He whispered fiercely._

_"I promise." She murmured weakly, feeling tears creep from her eyes. _

_The nightmare pulled at her again, trying to jerk her away from safety. She could feel his hold on her weakening._

_"Don't let go!" She sobbed, clutching desperately at him. The nightmare growled behind her… soft laughter, thunder, purring and roaring combined into a chilling sound._

_Then she was dragged from his grasp, dragged away. She could feel the demon's breath hot on her neck, its claws on her shoulders, but she never looked at it. She kept her eyes fixed on him, and he ran after her through the black void, gradually getting further away._

_As he disappeared, her hope died._

_"Numair!" She screamed…_

A hand was shaking her frantically, pulling her away from the void. Daine gasped and sat up, then regretted it as the room spun.

"Are you alright?!" A voice whispered near her ear, "You were screaming- you wouldn't wake up!"

Daine groaned and rested her aching head in her hands, before turning to glare at the speaker. Immediately, she wished she hadn't. The young woman looked terrified already, large brown eyes filled with fear of something, if not concern. Daine softened her gaze, wondering what the woman was so scared of.

"I'm not surprised I wouldn't wake up." She muttered, looking at the hard pallet she was lying on, and around the small bare room surrounding it. "I was drugged. What am I doing here? Come to think of it, where _is _here?" _How long have I been asleep? _She almost asked, before realizing that the woman wouldn't know.

The other woman self-consciously ran a hand over her shaved head. "This is the slave wing in the Esteemed Emperor's…" She spat on the floor, a shared gesture of hatred that made Daine grin and copy her. "The Emperor's palace. You were brought here about half an hour ago. I was told to make sure you woke up alright, tell you to stay here, and then to leave." The slave stood up and dusted her already filthy tunic off.

Daine was surprised by that- surely they wouldn't be stupid enough to leave her unguarded in a room-! The slave woman stood up, opening the unlocked door. Jumping up, Daine ran to the door. The slave grimaced at her, blocking the exit with one arm.

"What are you doing? _Escaping_?" She layered the word with all the sarcasm she could muster- quite a lot, for such a timid woman. Pulling a face, she pointed back at the pallet, gesturing for the girl to stay where she was told. "Surely they've beat that out of you? You're a slave, remember- you can't just walk out of here! They'll kill you!"

Daine blinked uncomprehendingly at her as she left, shaking her head over 'these crazy northern slaves'. It was only when she caught sight of her reflection in a metal pitcher that she understood.

She could hardly recognise herself. Her thick hair had been shaved away to stubble; her neck was raw and swollen from the shining collar that rubbed against it. She was marked. A slave, as unremarkable and unrecognizable as a slave could be- no magic, no friends, and no belongings, to be discarded on the whim of her enemy…

It was so obvious, and she'd missed it. Like this, she would simply fade away. She'd be scrubbing pots for the rest of her life, and no-one would know who she once was. She laughed until she cried, hysterical tears rolling down her cheeks and stinging her aching neck. The warm traces struck a chord in her memory, and some part of her that wasn't screaming listened to it._ Never look your enemy in the face without fighting every step of the way._

She nearly laughed again, but checked herself with an effort and dried her face, resolve hardening her features.

She knew now what she had to do.

"Shit!" Someone screamed, closely followed by: "Great Mithros- help me!"

Alanna wiped sweat from her eyes and presented the battlefield with a death glare, searching for her next opponent. The huge crowd of vicious immortals had descended on Corus the day after Numair had disappeared, leaving the barely defended city in chaos. Most of the army was grouped on the east coast, waiting to ambush the Carthaki fleet, and couldn't be spared to fight in the capital. Two rapidly shrinking groups of Riders, and a handful of knights, were struggling to defend the city.

A huge female spidren drew near to the knight, holding a pair of axes and grinning confidently. "Hello, dearie." It said, rearing to expose its spinneret, "What's a little lady like you doing on a battlefield?"

Alanna gritted her teeth furiously and dodged to one side, causing the monster to miss its aim and tangle two of its own legs together with web. With a triumphant yell, she darted forward and sliced at the elongated limbs, separating one from the spidren altogether and cutting deeply into the other. The spidren cursed loudly and stabbed at the knight with both the axes, cutting into her shoulder before she managed to roll away. The momentum caused the huge creature to lose its balance, staggering on only four legs. Ineffectually it struggled to regain its footing, even as Alanna dived in and beheaded it. Breathing heavily, she spat on its still twitching corpse. The creature twitched as its life blood pulsed from its neck.

"Alanna!" One of the rookie Riders ran towards her, clutching a short sword in her shaking hand. "The monsters are retreating- King Jonathan wants you back in HQ before they regroup!"

The knight nodded, bending to wipe her bloody sword on the grass in a futile attempt to clean it. Blood was everywhere, seeped into the pores of the exhausted fighters as they trailed from the battlefield, coating the hides of the immortals who slid silently into the depths of the forest. The air stank of it, even in the palace hallways. Alanna stripped off most of her armour before going to 'HQ'- Jon's office. He looked up as she entered, his eyes almost hidden in shadowed pits of tiredness, and nodded a greeting.

"Jon, this is impossible." Alanna declared.

"Blunt as ever, I see." The comment lacked its normal sarcasm, although the king's eyes sharpened as he said it. "I know what you mean though, just don't rub it in."

Alanna threw herself onto the most comfortable looking hard wooden chair and met Jon's eyes. "We're losing. We need more fighters, but damn it, there aren't any!"

"I'm going to enlist the men from the city." Jon rubbed his temples wearily. "It's all I can think of. We need everyone who can fight out there- everyone who can hold a sword, shoot a bow, use the gift…" His voice tailed off, but Alanna could hear the unspoken words as easily as if he'd shouted them- _If only Numair, and Daine, were here._

She broke the silence by getting up and walking to the desk. "What else did you want to talk to me about?"

"There's some new strategy ideas come from the coast… the courier's going back this evening under an invisibility spell." Jon met Alanna's troubled eyes with his own serious ones. "He's the last courier we'll be able to get out. The immortals are closing in on us every hour. I wanted to know if you had any messages for him to take to your family."

Alanna could read the defeat in his eyes, hear it in his voice. _We're not going to survive this. Say goodbye._

She smiled, to hide the tears in her eyes. "Tell them… tell them I love them and miss them."

_You know what your spirit is. It's that little voice inside, the one that makes you _yourself. _Some people's spirits shine, gazing out of their eyes in flashes of colour and delight, celebrating life and love, music and passion. Some people's spirits are half asleep, just a tiny glimmer you glimpse when they dream, but one day they will awaken and shine just as brightly._

_Some people lock their spirit away, and try to ignore it. They cage it between bars, between dull jobs, between unfulfilled dreams. The spirit is trapped, fluttering desperately inside its confines, dying slowly but surely._

_Other people hate their spirit. They see an inkling of good, or a gleam of evil in their most treasured heart, and try to destroy it. People arise from such battles with fixed minds, like hungry stormwings on a battlefield they plough their way through everything and everyone to greet their destiny. Destinies such as these are rooted in the soul, hurting friends and families alike, wounding loves to the heart._

_Thus the seeds of madness are sown._


	5. Chapter 5: Clues

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Chapter 5: Clues

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The first cannonball screamed before it hit the water. Bint stood up unsteadily, peering around in the dim twilight.

"What be that sound?" He whispered, straining his ears to hear. Aaron jumped to his feet, listening just as intently. He'd heard that sound before, a strange whistling, a dulled cracking sound…

"Get _down!_" He yelled, pulling the seaman with him to the deck seconds before the white-hot orb shattered a nearby wave into millions of glinting fragments. Something roared in the mage's ears as the explosion of spray rocked the boat and drenched the pair.

High above the boat, Wind hovered uneasily. Sea roared his fury and turned on the ship, hefting the glowing globe in one gigantic wave and hurling it onto the ship. Undeterred, the Carthaki sailors loaded another cannonball into the cannons, ignoring the screams of their crushed comrades and the rowing slaves. A man stood on the cross-bar of the mast, supporting himself with one hand in the rigging while he drew strange shapes in the air with the other. A pulsing violet aura appeared around him, laced with strands of orange fire, as fire pooled around his hand. With a sign, he sent the burning curse toward the small boat.

Wind raced ahead of it and blew, trying in vain to deter the fireball before it hit. The spell sped on, completely unaffected by the gale force winds, and turning Rain's tears to steam. It burst through the tidal waves Sea summoned, intent on it's deadly course.

Wind, in an act of desperation, blew on the boat. It keeled madly over to one side, its sail dragging in the tide, but then miraculously righted itself as it sped rapidly sideways. The fireball burst into the water, hissing madly in an explosion of smoke.

By this time, the two men in the boat had recovered themselves and were working furiously. Bint was grasping the tiller desperately with one hand- Wind took a moment to marvel at the skill with which he'd righted the boat. Aaron was standing braced on the deck, glaring at the other mage on the faraway mast and gathering power in his open hands. Even as another purple-and-orange fireball sped towards the boat, a beam of raw magic blasted the mage off the mast. He fell, one hand entangled in the rigging. Gasping harshly, his hooded cloak blown back from his face, the man pulled himself up back onto the mast. Clinging on with his free hand, he considered the faraway mage seriously, and then barked an order to the men below. They looked up at him, surprised, before stopping their attack as one and unfurling the sails once again.

The ship pitched forward in the rough sea, purple-orange mage light lacing around it and making it turn about with uncanny speed. The mage climbed down from the mast and glared back at the boat. A peculiar expression crossed his face as he studied Aaron and the fisherman, almost as if he was trying not to laugh. As the boat sailed further away, the buffeting by the elements lessened. He waved cheerfully at the fishing boat and started walking towards the cabins.

Aaron squinted at the man, memorizing his face. He didn't know this man, but he was so obviously dangerous. It was always good to recognise your enemies, to be able to identify them even when disguised. Years of hiding from the emperor had taught him that. Through the waves and the spray it was hard to see the man's features, especially as the ship was sailing away.

Then, for just a second, the spray parted. The man's face was instantly visible.

Aaron gasped and clutched the side of the boat. "No- it can't be…" He whispered hoarsely, gazing back over at the disappearing ship for another glimpse. But the spray didn't part again.

Ozorne glared at the small circle of fire, or more accurately, the face the circle showed. The man hadn't even bothered to make himself look presentable before he contacted the emperor with his magic; salt water stained his clothes, his hair was stiff with it and white crystals still clung to his skin.

But he had a arrogant composure that made him seem to be judging everything, even him- the emperor! And even though his clothes were filthy, he wore them with a noble lordliness that irritated Ozorne profusely.

"You say," his whisper was low and threatening, "You have the _nerve_ to tell me that you've lost half the fleet, before you've even reached the Oynar reefs?"

"Not I." Cut in the man, raking a hand through the stiff locks. He looked around him and leaned closer to the speaking spell, every inch the confidante. "Just between you and me, your incompetent captain couldn't handle the elements."

Ozorne slammed his hand down on the table, making the copper tabletop vibrate with the eerie echo of a gong. The speaking spell shook with the violence of it, the image trembling. "Don't get above yourself, boy!" He spat, his face reddening. "You can outlive your usefulness very quickly under my command!"

The mage didn't even have the courtesy to look disturbed. "I know it." He replied idly as he picked grains of salt from under his nails. "However, I currently have some information that will ensure your…temporary… goodwill."

Ozorne waited, before realizing that the boy was going to make him _ask _for the 'information'. Mithros, the mage was so annoying! If it wasn't for the obvious reasons he'd have disposed of him long ago. It was a pity that the man knew exactly what these reasons were. Drumming jeweled fingers over the table, he turned away from the glowing circle and glared at a slave, who shrank back nervously. "Pomegranate juice. Now!"

The slave bowed silently and went out. Ozorne looked back at the mage. He was smirking! The nerve! "Well?"

"A small boat is crossing the sea, carrying only two people- a sailor and a mage." His grin widened as he saw the emperor's ears prick up. "The mage was in disguise- very clever, but easy to see through if you're powerful enough." He waited, pausing for dramatic effect. With a great flourish, he declared, "Your traitor is coming to the rescue, oh great and glorious one."

Ozorne grinned, and then waved a hand at the circle, dismissing the mage imperiously. An aftermath of the man's annoying conversation flooded over him, and he spun, holding up a hand. The copper haired northerner waited, looking politely bored.

"My patience has limits." Whispered Ozorne, wiping the smirk from the boy's face. "You toe the line, or one day you'll go too far and I'll personally have you executed in a very, _very _painful way." This time it was the emperor who paused, holding the silence for several seconds. "Do I make myself clear?"

The mage bowed deeply, then straightened and looked Ozorne in the eye. The expression there chilled the emperor to the bone- a deep blackness that spoke of more terrors than Ozorne could imagine. He stopped himself from shivering and waited for the mage to make his respectful farewell.

"Find something better to threaten me with." He said, "Death holds no fear for me."

The globe vanished before the irate emperor could reply.

After years of hearing the People speaking, the silence made her ears ring. Stepping into the bejeweled aviary, her heart shattered when her friends flew away from her, twittering in alarm. Ozorne grinned maliciously at the tears in her eyes.

"That's right- they've deserted you, just like everyone else. But I can trust you not to poison them, which is a bonus." He pointed to a well concealed door set in one shining wall. "Behind there is their feed, and a place for you to sleep."

Daine nodded dully and watched the emperor stride from the aviary, locking the glass paneled doors behind him. The door, when she opened it, revealed a small cupboard with bags of seed and dried fruit, and a tiny alcove holding a pallet. Without much hope, she picked up a handful of dried peas and carried them back into the glass cage, slowly, using the peaceful meditating calm she'd practiced all the years she'd been a 'magelet', she held her open palms out to the birds.

They stayed away, chirping fretfully to each other from the hidden perches in the trees. Daine stayed perfectly still, breathing slowly, palms outstretched. Still, the birds hid. Something had terrified them beyond belief, Daine could tell that from their frantic chirps. Not one bird was singing; every pin feather was on end. A dull thud prompted her to move, scattering the peas on the ground.

The bird, a scarlet tanager, was lying on its back, wings spread open. A small cloud of dust had been disturbed when it fell. Daine frowned and picked it up, feeling how it was already growing cold.

The flash burned her eyes. Gasping, she shoved herself backwards, colliding with one of the bars on the glass walls. Absently, she noticed it hadn't been recoated yet. The bird must have died of lead poisoning.

Except… the bird wasn't dead any more. Trilling softly, it flew once around her head, soft wings brushing her ears, before flying into the trees and joining its companions. Daine gaped, staring after it, and then touched the cold metal collar around her neck.

"Thank you, Gods above." She whispered, staring after the bird.

"You're welcome." A voice croaked from nearby. Whirling, she laid eyes on the Graveyard Hag, who was sitting on a nearby bench, cane laid across her lap. "Close your mouth, dear." She added, "You look like a fish."

Daine stopped gaping and walked over to the goddess, finding her voice along the way. "It's nice of you to grace me with your presence, Goddess. A bit late, but nice."

"Oh, tush." The Hag stamped her cane on the ground, raising a cloud of dust. "Late nothing! I…" She caught a mouthful of dust and sneezed repeatedly. Daine waited impatiently until she was finished. Her head was aching dully, she guessed it was because of the magic.

"Why don't you bow, girl?" The goddess spluttered, eventually catching her breath, "Even the elements bow to me!"

"Poor things." Daine deadpanned. The Graveyard Hag shook a fist at her, feigning anger.

"You're so insulting! I don't know why I'm helping you, really."

"As far as I can tell, you're not." Daine returned, her patience snapping. "So I can… raise the dead? So what? I'm trapped in a giant bird cage; there's a _sea _between me and my friends! I can't use my magic, and now you're _yelling _at me!"

The goddess sighed. "Think about what else you can do, not just what you've been taught since you left Galla." Without waiting for an answer, she vanished. Daine stared at the spot where she'd been.

"Why do you want to help me, anyway?" She murmured skywards, rubbing her aching forehead absently. "What's in it for you? And why in Mithros' name does my head hurt so much?!"

Biting her lip as darts of pain ripped into her head, she staggered to the bench and sat down, resting her head on her hands. Behind her, unnoticed, a glowing orb of magic vanished from where it had been hiding during the conversation, fading into the air. Tiny particles of it sped to the doors, squeezing through minute cracks in the engraving. Invisible, it glided over the sea, back to its owner.

With voices as soft as a wing beat, voices spoke from the orb.

_Fascinating, _The mage whispered, listening to the two voices in the breeze.

The sea crashed against the rock, hurling the laughing mermaid against its sharp edges. She reveled in the storm, her sharp silver teeth still stained with bright blood, silver blood coursing down her sides. Laughing again, she grabbed the rock and dragged herself onto it, splashing her silvery tail in the salty spray.

A second creature, this time a male, swam up to the rock, dragging himself up beside her. He wasn't laughing; indeed he looked near serious as he ran a hand through his green-blue hair.

"Why are you out of the water, Daphaneal?" He asked her seriously. The siren laughed in his face, the stench of death on her breath.

"They're all dead. I'm waiting for the next boat to collapse. Why do you have to be so _serious _all the time, brother? No-one can see me when the sea's this high, and there's no need to hide from Him!" Slyly, she slid into the water, and then added, "And _I'm_ not the one who's breaking the rules, Daneten!"

Cursing foully, her brother slid down beside her. Daphaneal grinned, breathed a mouthful of salt water, and dove into the depths.

"Wait!" Daneten sped after her. "I need to talk to you!" He could hear her harsh laughter as she raced ahead. Cursing again, he veered to the left and grabbed a fish, ripping it in two with his clawed hands. As always, the delightful scent of blood stopped his sister; she returned and grabbed one half, tearing into it savagely. Taking the opportunity to speak while her mouth was full, Daneten explained the problem to her. She actually stopped eating for a second to sneer at him.

"You're barmy. Have you been eating jellyfish again? Dead humans don't walk, dolt! I should know," She grinned, blood dripping between her teeth, "I've seen quite a few…"

"I swear!" Cried Daneten, shredding the remains of the fish he held. "The captain from the ship that sailed off… I caught him before he drowned. He fought me. And he… he was raving about it."

Daphaneal frowned, blue light shimmering delicately over her face. "But that's against the _rules_. Crossing between the mortal and divine realms is one thing, but not the realms of the dead. I didn't even know it was possible."

Her brother nodded, and gave her the other half of the fish. "So, will you help me?" He asked. Daphaneal nodded and twisted her hands together, summoning a shimmering bubble. Daneten placed his hands on one side of it and swam backwards, stretching it into a huge globe.

Both the mer-creatures swam into the bubble at the same time. As soon as they entered it, they vanished.

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	6. Chapter 6: Trapped

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Chapter 6: Trapped

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_What can you take with you?_

_If you're running away from home, you can only take what you can carry. What would that be for you? Money, clothes, valuables, maybe pictures of those you're leaving behind? _

_You take your tears with you wherever you go, tears of regret and anger._

_What can you take with you?_

_If you're riding off to battle, you take only what you need- weapons and armour. You take your life off to battle, and very few can bring it back. You take your memories, in the hope that you might live through the battle to make some more. _

_You take your tears with you wherever you go, tears of fear and rage._

_What can you take with you?_

_If you're dying, if you're deadly sick, and the Black God comes to take you to his realm, what can you take with you? _

"It's a tactical withdrawal, nothing more." Gary argued, smashing his fist onto the parchment covered table. Alanna sighed in mock relief.

"Well, that's a comfort. For a moment I thought you were suggesting we run away."

"You want to die, do you?" The other knight snapped, glaring at the redhead. "Every day we lose more men; they're picking us off one by…"

"That's enough!" Jon broke into the argument. He sighed and leaned on the table, looking at the strange tunnels drawn on the yellowing parchment. "Alanna, we're not running away. We're withdrawing, through these tunnels, to Barony Amern. We can conduct a better defense from there. I think the immortals are after people rather than property, so with any luck they should leave Corus intact."

Alanna looked mutinous, but bowed sullenly and left to rouse the remaining people from their exhausted sleep. By midnight, all the citizens of Corus were huddled in the catacombs. Every eye was touched by the fighting, some black from battle, some dulled by weariness, most reddened by tears. Everyone clutched a bundle of belonging; they could only take what they could carry and in most cases this was very little. Alanna had only her sword and a small pack, her own eyes reddened by the tears she'd shed over her two horses as she'd bid them goodbye. There were no false hopes over seeing them again.

Somewhere in the near-silent crowd, a child was crying. _Mama… where's my mama? I want my mama!!_

"Shut that kid up!" Someone snarled. There was the sound of a harsh slap, and a startled cry. Both echoed eerily in the shadows. "If we're not silent, the monsters will know something's afoot!"

"We're in a cave under twenty feet of near-solid rock, in the middle of a city." Alanna snapped, making a beeline for the speaker. He was standing near a little girl, who was clutching her cheek and crying silently. Alanna's heart twisted with rage. "Monsters sleep at night, the same as you do! If you ever, _ever _strike her or any other child again, I'll send you to go and check that they're all sleeping peacefully! Of course, we can't spare any weapons, and we'll have to lock the gate behind you…" She knelt and put her arms around the girl, then turned to glare again at the man. He'd slunk into the crowd.

The little girl hugged the knight tightly, a red handprint clear on her pale face. Alanna stood up and carried the girl back to where the tunnel started. "Where're your parents?" She asked as she walked.

The little girl sniffled. "Papa went fighting… when he di'nt come back Mama took his place."

Alanna remembered the morning's slaughter with a wrench of pity for the girl. "I'll look after you, then." She murmured, catching sight of Jon and Gary as they climbed down the small flight of stairs to the catacomb.

"Is this everyone?" Jon asked in a low voice, glancing at the child with a look of puzzlement. Alanna nodded, and followed him into the black depths of the tunnel. Behind her, Gary herded the group of people into a line.

Each footstep echoed in the tunnels, coupled with the strange tinny noises of water dripping down the walls. Insects fled from the torchlight in a swarm, making the walls seem to move. A few people in the crowd whimpered uneasily, the pressure of the walls and darkness pressing on them and making them feel trapped. Their friends comforted, encouraged and teased them, forcing them all to continue at the same pace even as the tunnel narrowed.

After a while of walking, Alanna tapped Jon on the shoulder with her free arm. "Shouldn't your boots be making… uh… thudding noises?" She asked. Jon looked at her in surprise, then knelt and felt the stone floor. It was covered in something soft, almost like silk. He stood up, trying to pull his hand away as gossamer strands clung to it.

"Spidren," He whispered.

"Let me get this straight," Rain muttered, staring at her sister. "She _wants _us to help them?"

Wind nodded, sending breezes darting into the sea absently. "It means we won't get in trouble," She reminded Rain, dodging the salty spray her brother threw at her and dancing in the air currents happily. "It all turned out well!"

"I wouldn't count on it. She always has her own reasons for everything." Sea swirled currents until they formed a semblance of the Hag's face. The wrinkled features twisted and winked in the grey-green water, until Sea sent a wave to dash the face against the rocks. Rain and Wind looked at the explosion of water uneasily, unsure how to react to something that was very near blasphemy.

"We followed the rules," Wind said uncertainly.

"Almost..." Rain admitted even less confidently. Both figures hovered above the shifting plane of water, thinking seriously about what they were doing for perhaps the first time ever. Below them, another image of the Hag leered up at them.

"All we did was help. She's just making it so we can help _and_ follow the rules at the same time…" Wind declared confidently, her optimism returning.

"Well, **I'm** no _pet _element at her beck and call. I won't work for her." The Sea rumbled. The image winked cheerfully at them and dissolved.

Wind shook her head. "She just gave us some information she thought would help, and vanished. I don't know why she hasn't punished us, really."

"Information?" Rain prompted, tears trickling slowly down her cheeks once again. Wind scowled at her, changing the subject by blowing the tears from her sister's cheeks.

"Why are you always raining _here? _There's a drought in Carthak- when's the last time you went there? I barely manage to dry the trees off here when they're soaked again!"

"There's no point raining in Carthak," Rain said scornfully, tears resuming their course. "It's too hot. I turn to steam in no time at all. And there's no wind either, so don't you lecture me. The only Elemental that stays there is Fire! Even the Gods never go there any more!"

Sea stopped churning for an instant and made a surprised bubble burst to the surface, ignoring his sisters' jibes at one another. "What? You don't mean to say the Gods have abandoned Carthak altogether? I thought they were just mad at what's-his-name…"

"Ozorne." Wind looked thoughtful. "Maybe _that's_ why they want us to help…"

"…because we never 'help' anyone without totally wrecking everything." Rain finished. She shook her head restlessly and whirled around Wind. "Remember when Ganiel asked us to clear a continent of dinosaurs so he could keep some human safe? Man, was that a bad mistake!"

"That's probably it, then." Sea concluded. "The Hag was never very subtle. Destroying an entire race means nothing to her."

Rain stopped whirling and sighed. "I'll go and rain in Carthak for a while, then. I'll see you there, sister. Try to think of something to do." She bowed mockingly to Sea and left.

_Cages._

_A confinement of a body, of a spirit, of a soul. Cages take many forms, depending on what they contain. _

_A cage for a body can be made of metal, of wood, of stone or of glass. It has locks and doors, and can be broken out of with the help of a key. _

_A cage for a spirit can be made of magic, of elements, even a simple strand of hair. It can be broken only by something stronger than it, of the will to overcome it, of the endurance of pain. _

_A cage for a soul can be made of passions- of love, of hate, of madness. There is no way to break it. _

By the time the small boat reached the small deserted cove, both men looked pale and ill. In Bint's case this was understandable, having drunk the entire alcohol store on the boat in the remainder of their (eerily calm) journey. The other man was pale from fear, tired from over thinking, and ill with concern. As the boat bumped against the shore, Aaron held up a hand to stop Bint getting out.

"You'd better sail back to the mainland," He said, "When you're sober."

Bint grinned and held up a hand in mock salute. "Aye, sir. Ah'll be near too sob'r befer long." He glanced at the calm strip of sea they'd crossed and shuddered. Aaron nodded understandingly and raised a hand in farewell, walking behind an outcrop of rocks and disappearing from the sailor's sight. He waited until he heard the slap of larger waves against the boat before stripping off the magical disguise from his face, becoming Numair once again. That guise only lasted moments, before the mage took a deep breath and flew from the cove as an overlarge black hawk. As he flew towards the far away city, small drops of rain began to fall, soaking through his feathers and weighing him down. Hastily he sped to a certain building; with relief he saw that the window was open.

It was unfortunate that Lindhall chose that moment to gaze out of the window. A three stone bird is very hard to ignore, especially when it hits you in the face at high speeds. Man and hawk crashed to the floor in an undignified fashion, circled by a very frightened flying bird-skeleton.

"Numair!" Cried Lindhall as soon as he could breathe again, "You shouldn't be here, it's far too dangerous!"

The hawk shrugged and flew into Lindhall's room. Lindhall paced uneasily as he waited for the man to shape shift and get dressed, trying to think of the best way to convince his friend to go straight back to Tortall. His normally keen mind refused to work. Numair came back into the room and caught sight of the expression on his face.

. "You thought I'd just leave, again?" He asked coolly. Lindhall shook his head in agitation.

"No, but…God's above, Numair! You do realize he's planned for you to come back? It's what he _wants!"_

Numair caught the screeching Bonedancer and ran a long finger down his back, soothing him. "I _do_ realize he's planned for me to come back, and that's what he wants." He mimicked dryly. "However, I would prefer to take a decisive course of action and make him believe events have taken his precise preferred route, while creating a contrary diversion that he will not foresee."

"Ah!" A slow grin spread over the other mage's face. "I understand you perfectly!" He opened a nearby cupboard door and pulled out a large parchment wrapped bundle. "What's your plan?"

"Where's Daine?" Asked Numair quickly, letting Bonedancer go. He fluttered to a torch holder on the wall and stayed there. Lindhall shook his head wearily.

"I'm sorry, Numair. I've looked everywhere and asked everyone, but I can't find her. Either she's hidden, or she's left, or everyone's been told to keep their mouths shut. I think it's probably the last one, but it still means I have no idea where she is."

"Okay," Whispered Numair, passing a hand over his eyes, "This is what we're going to do…"


	7. Chapter 7: Transform

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Chapter 7: Transform

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The two merfolk swam silently through the glowing tunnel. A myriad of light glittered along its walls, for all the world like being inside a bubble. Even though they swam, the sirens knew they were not in water, nor air, although strange creatures walked, breathed and flew around them. A deep and empty silence crushed what would otherwise be a beautiful place, making their heads pound.

The atmosphere very quickly became too boring for Daphaneal's limited attention span; she swam onto her back and looked back at her brother.

"I heard the wind sing yesterday." She said loudly, giggling at the absurdity of the boast. Daneten frowned and shook his head.

"You didn't."

"I did!" Daphaneal laughed again and flicked her fins. "Listen, I'll sing it for you!" Her voice took on a strange lilting quality, keening an eerie tune. It echoed and died in the tunnel, surrounding them and growing louder with each note. Oblivious to the fact that there was obviously some kind of magic in the song, Daphaneal sang louder and louder. Eventually, having noticed her brother was ignoring her, she grew bored of just the tune, and created words to fit it.

"_Let me sing you a song of love, sail this way my sweetheart._

_Let me sing sweetly, like a dove, sail this way my love._

_See not the rocks; see not your doom; see not the depths of your cold tomb. Let me sing you straight to me, but let your eyes, your sweetheart see._

_Let me sing you to your death, before you've time to draw a breath._

_The rocks and ocean wait for thee, so come, sweet sailor, die for me."_

"We're almost there." Daneten cut off his sister's delighted laugh in the cleverness of her lyrics and gestured at the gleaming silver walls around them. The colours were now almost completely overtaken by burnished metallic shades. "You'll get in trouble if you're caught singing."

Daphaneal flicked her fins sulkily, humming the last few bars of song. "It seems to me we're never allowed to do anything fun. There are always these _rules._ You won't let me sit on a rock even in the middle of a storm, and I'm not even allowed to sing now?"

"_You are far too silly to have anything important to say, Daughter."_ A deep voice boomed, startling the creature from her tirade. _"However, your brother seems to have received your share of maturity. What is it, Daneten?"_

The huge immortal had swum from the black end of the tunnel, from one of the breaches in the barrier between realms. Smoldering red eyes glared at the shivering Daphaneal, while at the same time another pair, this time icy blue and filled with humor, rested on Daneten. Many limbs- tails and arms and heads and silver wings, claws and scales and feathers and fins- all moved constantly while the deity itself remained still in the water-air. One, and many, the god was both nothing and everything. Daneten bowed deeply.

"Inmar, God of all immortals, I greet you." He murmured, and then somersaulted uneasily in the water to face the humorous face, figuring it was less likely to want to attack him than the more serious looking human or Taurus-shaped heads.

"_Speak now, while your sister is for once silent, and stop fluttering around."_ A nearby mouth advised curtly.

"Very well, Great One." Daneten swallowed and went on, "We believe that the humans have breached the gate between their realm and the realm of the dead, and brought a human back."

"**_What?!"_** A score of heads roared at once to the sound of feathers rustling and claws being unsheathed. Daneten quailed for a moment, but then continued.

"You said, after the last time, that if any other humans upset the balances, you were to be informed right away."

"It was something to do with the barrier, wasn't it?" Ventured Daphaneal hesitantly, looking up. The god glanced at her and nodded absently with one feathered head, while another explained in a furious voice.

"_Why should they- pathetic, weak creatures, be permitted by Mother Flame to bend the rules and raise the dead? The last time it happened the barrier was nearly destroyed, and the force of it tried to shake the place they call Tortall to pieces. All of we gods agreed that such a thing was not to be permitted again."_ Another head sighed and nodded at the two as the creature began to argue with itself._ "Thank you. You may go."_

"That's all?" Daphaneal was indignant, making her brother try to hush her unsuccessfully. "I used the best part of my magic to come and warn you, and all you can say is to _go away_?"

Several heads muttered amongst themselves, shocked at the rude blasphemy, but one, a beautiful, if angular, face surrounded by bright feathers, laughed.

"You would like a reward, my sweet?" She cooed, her tones unbelievably sweet and true, "You like singing, do you not?"

Daphaneal nodded greedily, not noticing that her brother had fled back up the tunnel. She swam closer to the face, her eyes rapt on the beautiful face.

"It just so happens," continued the beautiful face, as the rest of Inmar began to laugh chillingly, "that we need to keep track of some events on land. Do you know which immortal I represent?"

The mer-creature shook her head as the face lifted a nearby wing, shaping a spell which sped towards her. Suddenly, the mermaid's greedy mind caught on to the fact that she was in danger of some kind. With a shock of horror, she fled.

"That's it, run! Bid your green depths and watery haunts farewell!" The Siren deity keened shrilly as the other beings laughed.

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_Everyone suffers pain, every day of their life. It might be the pain of a stubbed toe, or a burn from where you tipped the candle over. It might be a slight headache from writing sonnets into the dark of the night, from straining your eyes to see the parchment as the torches died out. It might be a pain in your heart, guilt from stealing from the kitchens, or even pangs of love._

_Not all pains are the same. Some are born from physical things, some are pains that only you can feel. Such pain comes from dreams, from memories, from longing. Self inflicted, or taken from others, such pain can only be blamed on others if you tell them of it._

_Every so often there is a chapter in our lives that's solely about pain._

_About the pain of dreams…_

_Every night, he moaned and shivered in his sleep. Every night he woke up pouring sweat, suppressing a scream._

_Both of him._

_It started as he fell into the abyss of death, and ended when someone dragged him out again._

_It started as the blood red magic fell around him, in a deadly waterfall. He was falling into it, drowning in it. Desperately, he always tried to draw breath from the choking power. There was always too much power, and he always drowned in it, burned up in it._

_It started as he died, and it started as he died. One died after the other, one pierced by his magic, the other pierced by his sword. Both had called his death to himself._

_It started as they met, linked for all eternity, hovering in the blood red magic. When one was filled with sorrow and one was already drowning in madness and hate. When one wrapped himself around the other and tried to drag him down, tried to drown him in the evil, in the blood. When they drowned together, locked in an embrace of madness, hate, grief, despair, desire, repulsion, and all emotions that flowed into the blood-red and dragged them down. _

_It started as they glared each other in the eye. It started as Death itself judged them._

"_Once you have cheated death, twice you shall defeat death, thrice death with cheat you." Death hissed._

_It ended as they were dragged from death and blood as one being. Linked for eternity._

_It ended as he woke up, pouring sweat, linked for eternity._

_Once, he cheated death._

_A second time he defeated death._

_Death had yet to cheat him._

"No!" He screamed hoarsely, bolting upright from his bedroll. The grey light of dawn outlined his features in a cold luminescence, highlighting the dark rings under his eyes and the lighter streaks in his hair. Gazing absently at his shimmering reflection in the pitcher of water as he poured a drink with shaking hands, he remembered that he used to be vain. He couldn't remember much else yet, the emperor having placed a blocking spell inside his mind before he'd even awoken from the deep sleep. Slowly, painfully, he'd begun to chip off the edges, but…

Every night there was the same dream. As more and more of the block chipped away, the dream became more and more vivid. Shuddering, he gazed over the side of the ship into the stony grey waters. Every night, Death calmly told him that he wasn't a person; he was two people, linked for eternity into one body. Ironically, he couldn't remember why. It didn't seem to make sense, he guessed it must be a metaphor or something. He only knew what he'd been told, that his name was Alaric, and that he used to be vain.

The sea was calm for once, the nights increasingly muggy since they neared Carthak. He was not the only person who'd decided to sleep on the deck. Sailors slept wherever they could find, weary from the day's battle and the increasing heat.

He stared into the sea, willing the nightmare away. If it was a price for regaining his memory, he wasn't sure he _wanted _to remember…

His gaze was drawn to a darker patch of sea. What was that? There was something there… he squinted. It almost looked like…

Glittering eyes gazed back at him from the depths. Cursing in surprise, he jerked back from the edge and trod on a sleeping sailor.

"What the-!" The heavily muscled man felt the boot-print that indented his face angrily. Jumping to his feet, he shook a large fist in Alaric's face. "What in Mithros' name did'ye do that for?!"

"Uh… time to wake everyone…up?" Suggested the mage sheepishly, backing away. The sailor looked bewildered and rubbed his eyes.

"Hey, if you can't wake me up in future, try stepping on someone else." He muttered, touching his face and wincing. Before Alaric could apologize the man had turned away, shaking the other members of crew into wakefulness.

When the mage looked over the side again, the eyes had gone.

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Jonathan stood still, looking at the web on his hand in dismay. His carefully formulated plan seemed to be shattering around them. Spidren were keen of ear and eye- they could never sneak a crowd of scared men, woman and children past them without getting killed.

"Don't say anything." Whispered Alanna, barely moving her lips, "The last thing you want is for a hundred odd civilians panicking down here."

Jon nodded, scraping the web from his hand against the rock wall of the cave. There must be _something_ they could do! "This is an enclosed space," he murmured thoughtfully, glancing around. "Spi… they won't have room to maneuver if they attack here, they have no space. So you can bet your life they're in the cavern."

Alanna grinned and stood up slowly. "I can see what you're thinking. That means we've got another hour's walking."

Word whispered among the few knights and warriors among the crowd, they casually moved nearer the front of the line as the procession moved forwards. After being briefed with the plan, nodding and moving back among the civilians, there was still a way to walk. Alanna filled the time by talking with the little girl she still carried. She said her name was Irisa.

"An' I'm six!" She declared proudly. Alanna laughed, remembering when Aly and Thom had been like that. The very thought of her children sobered her instantly and she caught her breath.

"Wha's wrong?" Asked Irisa, clumsily patting the knight's shoulder in what was supposed to be a comforting manner. Alanna smiled slightly and shook her head.

"I have to put you down now," she said, doing so. "Go and join the others and stay still." Iris looked bewildered but ran to the group of silent people. Alanna went quietly over to a crack in the rock, barely large enough for a horse to fit through. All the other fighters were already gathered round it, and Gary was already peering cautiously through.

"There's about twenty." He murmured almost soundlessly to the assembled group. "No young- they must have come with the rest of the immortals. How they managed to fit through this little gap beats me…"

"They're not that big- mostly legs." Jon spoke just as quietly. "You all know what you have to do?" Everyone nodded and got into positions, some guarding the civilians, some gathered around the fissure. Mercifully the monsters hadn't noticed they were there, and were sleeping quietly. Alanna and Jon both crept through the gap as silently as they could. Jon held up three fingers, then two, then one…

The heat from the burst of magical fire burnt Alanna's face, even as she summoned more. Jon's face flickered eerily as his own blue flames started to dwindle.

"That's it!" He yelled over the roar of the flames and screeches of the by-now-rather-crispy monsters. "Get back! Get ready to fight!" Cutting off the fire abruptly, both the mages scrambled back through the gap and drew their swords as the first Spidren scrambled after them.

The stench of charred hair and roasting flesh made Alanna gag; she staggered backwards, choking on the smoke that rose from another spidren that was actually on fire as it fought. Even as she paused to catch her breath it collapsed, roasting to death with an inhuman scream.

The handful of warriors fought desperately. Even though they could only climb through the gap one at a time, and despite the fact that they were on fire, they fought back savagely. There were only twelve left, who hadn't been cooked, but they fought as effectively as fifty. Alanna stabbed and blocked and cut, but could feel her strength giving out. Desperately she gripped the ember-stone that hung around her neck, whispering a prayer, but then yelling a curse as she saw the Spidren through gift-eyes.

All the monsters were bathed in blood red magic, the power glittering around their wounds and healing them, giving them extra strength.

"Jon!" She yelled over the noise, "They're magicked!" A spidren grabbed her around the throat with a strong claw, choking off her voice.

"That's right, dearie." She hissed softly, "Magicked."

Alanna frantically tried to stab the creature, but it held her suspended at a distance from its body, high in the air. Even as she started to choke, blue fire streamed across the cave into the Spidren's face, melting its eyes and killing it instantly. Alanna tucked herself into a ball as she fell, but knew she was too high from the ground for it to make any difference. She heard her arm crack before she fell unconscious.


	8. Chapter 8: Dead and Undead

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Chapter 8: Dead and Undead

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_There is always something in your life that you learn from. An accident, a word spoken in anger that never goes away… small things and large things all combine into the lesson that is life._

_How can the dead learn from life? If you lose your memory, then to you your life is dead. It suits some people to be dead, or to pretend to be dead. A deep sleep, no memories, no pain. No lessons to be learnt._

_Of course, some people never learn. Blocks fall away, guards destroyed by anger and wrath and cunning and guile._

_Some people learn from others. A slave learns from his master from beatings and curses, a lover learns from soft words and promises. But two people can never learn exactly the same things as each other. For this reason, everyone will argue at some point in their lives._

_You can learn from arguments, but, of course, some people never learn._

He had nothing against being recalled from the fighting, from the sweat and dirt of the battlefield. It only took him minutes to return, dancing through the waves in the guise of an over-large porpoise. Ozorne had seemed surprised when he hadn't complained about the blunt summons, but then, Ozorne was a stupid prick. The man didn't think an amnesiac capable of plotting, and he hadn't even tried to confine his power. What an idiot!

Everything was going so perfectly, according to plan. Who would have dreamed that in his life he'd be in service to two equally foolish rulers?

_Lives_. He corrected himself.

Of course, he thought, striding through the gilt corridors with an arrogant ease, slaves bowing and hurriedly getting out of his way, a little subtle mind control never goes amiss. He didn't even have to pretend to respect the man, which was easy. The only problem he'd had with the plan this time was the other half, the annoying voice inside him that screamed in his mind at the plan, who stayed his arm when he tried to blast the knights on the battlefield. The part of his mind that he'd conquered, eventually.

But that part of himself was cunning, and wouldn't take defeat easily. He'd be on his guard.

And then there was the girl, a shred of information that came through one of the many spy spells in the palace. An unexpected stroke of luck, that…

He forgot to knock on the golden door, just pushed his way in. That was a bad idea. Ozorne was already livid; the intrusion turned his face a delicate shade of puce.

"What do you mean by this?" He spat, standing up from the delicately carved desk. Alaric shrugged and leaned back against the closed door.

"I don't dwell on ceremony. You knew that when you brought me back to life."

"Then you should appreciate how precious life is! And how temporary yours seems to be!" Ozorne hissed, shaking a fist. Alaric yawned and stood up straight, focusing his mind briefly. Ozorne blinked.

"What was I saying?" He asked; face paling to its usual gold tan. The mage smiled slightly and bowed.

"You were telling me why you have recalled me from the front." He replied, gracefully easing out of the bow. Ozorne paused, passing a hand over his forehead thoughtfully, and looked up at the mage. Alaric's slight smirk faded in the pause. The man had the gift, maybe he knew what magic Alaric was using… if he realized, all was lost. His mouth dry, he waited for the emperor to speak.

"Of course," The emperor amended "Yes- that was it." He rubbed his forehead again and turned away. "Would you like a glass of sherbat?"

"No, thank you." Alaric leant back against the door, relaxed once more. Ozorne sat back at the desk and nodded at a slave, who poured a glass of the sweet drink and disappeared silently. The emperor took a long sip before speaking again.

"The reason this war started, officially, was because one of the ambassadors from Tortall ran away and joined the slave liberation front." He picked up the glass, tapped the side thoughtfully with a perfectly manicured nail, and set it down again. "That is, in theory. In reality, one of the other ambassadors is a dangerous traitor. He is remarkably attached to the girl, and I believe he'll try to help her if she's in trouble."

"I understand- you're using her as bait." Alaric was amazed. Was there anything the man wouldn't sink to? Saying that, there was already another plan afoot… "Why do you need me here, then?"

"You have no contacts, and no-one you'll inform of secrets. For that reason you're one of the only people I'll trust…at the moment."

Alaric bowed again, to hide the smirk. "I'm honored." He said, contradicting his true feelings. Of course he wasn't honored; he'd arranged the whole thing! Superbly, he added, preening himself.

"…and, of course, something needs to be done. Follow me." The emperor continued, dragging the mage from his thoughts with a jolt. Jumping from his bow, he followed Ozorne into an engraved passageway, which opened in the aviary. The emperor stood in the middle of the floor until Alaric was through the passage, then closed the entrance. Almost invisible, surrounded by shining engraved beaks and glittering wings, the door sealed itself virtually soundlessly.

"No guards?" Belatedly, Alaric remembered to add: "Your majesty?"

"I can't trust them, especially not near my darlings." Replied Ozorne vaguely, glancing around with a worried expression. "As it is, they're scared." He pointed out a long row of birds, all huddled together in the branches of the trees. Alaric didn't even bother to look.

"Trust can be misplaced, Ozorne." He murmured quietly, making a strange symbol in the air. Ozorne, his back to the mage, didn't notice.

"Don't worry, amnesiac," He spat, "I can defend mysel-" He broke off into a fit of coughing, unable to draw breath. Alaric feigned surprise.

"Would you like a drink, majesty?" He offered the glass of sherbat, which Ozorne grabbed and downed between coughs. But, for some reason, the drink did nothing to aid the attack- he couldn't seem to draw breath at all! Gasping as his lungs burned, desperately trying to draw breath, he fell to his knees. Alaric, who he had trusted, didn't move.

"Are you alright, majesty?" He asked politely, arms clasped behind his back. Ozorne gasped frantically, coughed, and shot a look at the mage filled with more appeal than those eyes had ever shown before. Alaric looked vaguely concerned, through the red mist.

With false consternation he watched as the man who had raised him from the dead collapsed; limbs that were starved of oxygen no longer able to support him. After a moment, a seed of magic erupted from his throat and shot to the mage. Alaric absorbed it in a palm, looking at the dead man with hate. His head ached as the other voice screamed inside his mind.

"I would raise you from the dead, if it were to curse you as it cursed me," He spat. For a second his face was half crazed with malice, half crossed with sorrow. Then, smoothly, a calm mask spread over his features once again.

If the spy spells were accurate, the girl with the power over death was somewhere in this room. He began to search, sending pain spells towards any birds that dared come near him.

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Ganiel must be going mad. This dream hardly made sense to her tired, tear stained mind. She had fallen asleep, her head pounding horribly, and suddenly she was…_here._

She was sitting in the middle of a clearing, in woods that were near-familiar. Dark silhouettes surrounded her, each one well-known yet strange. She frowned at some of the more distant shadows, who stood aloof and unconcerned as the others shouted at one another. Everyone was very angry, though not at her- it was if they didn't realize she was there.

She looked around more curiously, the shadows becoming clearer as she blinked. How strange! There were People arguing with the humans, and she could hear them! She wished she'd never have to wake u and face the silence when she caught sight of a familiar face. Her heart twisted.

Her ma was arguing with the Badger God, who was growling at the Graveyard Hag- a very strange deity to meet in one's dreams, Daine thought. The Gallan woman looked as young and healthy as Daine remembered her from years ago, even though she was dead and buried. A strange aura seemed to surround her, as though she were not quite human.

"Ma?" Daine whispered.

The woman's eyes darted around to her. Her eyes widened, she drew in a surprised breath she rushed over to her, throwing her glowing arms around her daughter. Only after she had kissed both the girl's cheeks and stood away did she notice the state the girl was in.

"Daine! What happened to you?" She whispered, shocked, running a slender hand along her daughter's short hair. Her fingers brushed against the icy cold of the collar and she frowned, and then looked frightened as she studied the dull metal. Frantically she tried to get the collar off the girl's neck, to no avail.

_-It exists in the mortal realm, not here.-_ commented the Badger dryly, waddling over to them. _–You won't be able to remove it. What happened, Daine?-_

She shook her head, used to seeing him in her dreams and more comfortable talking to him. She swallowed and looked away from the love in her mother's eyes, still convinced that she would wake up and find that she was still dead. "It's… a slave collar. And then my head hurt, and… Badger, what's going on? Why am I here? Where _is _here?" the words came out of her throat in a croak. "I- I'm not dead, am I?"

"You're not dead," The Hag hobbled over. "Not without my say so, anyhow. As to what's happening, I suspect those mischievous elements of something." Her eyes twinkled secretively before she continued. "However, Sarra's right. You need to get that collar off, and fast. It's trapped your magic, and the power I leant you, so you can't use it. Neither Wild Magic nor God-power should be confined. It's burning you up."

Daine blinked sleepily, wondering at the strangeness of the dream. Where had she gotten _this_ idea from? Vaguely, she remembered lessons at the Riders HQ…

"…impossible to get the damn thing off!" Sarra snapped irritably to someone nearby. Daine blinked a few times, wondering why she felt so tired in a dream, as the Badger sighed.

-Well then, I'll take her back, and get the collar off in the mortal realm. As is my duty to the patron goddess.- He added sarcastically, before nudging Daine onto her feet. –Come on, Daine, let's go.-

Daine glanced back as they walked into the foggy darkness. Sarra stood with one hand raised in farewell, a tear running down her face for the daughter who hadn't spoken one word to her. Tentatively, Daine waved back and was rewarded with a smile.

"If I'm not dead, am I asleep?" She asked the Badger hesitantly, tearing her eyes away from her ma. The Badger hesitated before nodding slowly.

"Yes…that's about right."

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_Theft is a problem every person has to deal with- whether it be the lowest maid hiding her weekly copper under the grate, or the highest ruler hiring guards to protect his storehouse._

_Some people deal with it in a different way, becoming thieves themselves. These aren't necessarily bad people, but there are bad punishments for being one of them. In a small village a thief may be cast out, in a town they may have their hand cut off. In some cities thieves are executed._

_The way of catching such a thief is easy- the item is still in their possession, the person they sold it to feels the need to accuse them, the person they stole from saw them. In many cases the thief is not found, but the property is recovered. Some property is never recovered, and soon forgotten._

_How can you recover an item that you cannot see? How can you trace an item that isn't material, a value that has been removed? If someone steals your heart, how can you reclaim it?_

_Some things can never be retrieved._

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Dark grey clouds gathered together in the blistering sky, throwing the city into semi-darkness. As the mass rumbled ominously citizens took cover, knowing full well what to expect. A sudden rainstorm would strip the light roofs from the poorer houses, and flood the rich courtyards of the wealthy. Market traders covered their goods with leather sheets and prayed it would be enough. The more cautious people climbed to the higher grounds- the ground was rock solid, and water would simply sit atop the dust. Any water would flood the ground completely. Unseen by the chaos beneath, a small being flew to meet the clouds.

"Thank you for coming." It said, patting one of the large, soft-yet-soggy clouds. They clung together in a group, none of them wanting to speak first. Eventually, one of them huffed mockingly and blew softly in her direction.

"You do know we're disobeying the Gods, Mother Rain?" The cloud asked uneasily. Others muttered around it as it continued, "We were told to keep this land in a drought."

Rain laughed shrilly and grabbed two fistfuls of cloud, pulling them into pieces and throwing them down onto the city. Like confetti they drifted down, thinner and thinner they became. A low mist settled over the ground.

"Do you always do what you're told?" She shrilled, bubbling with laughter and throwing more fistfuls of cloud onto the ground. "The rules can be broken! Isn't it fun!" The cloud she was tearing at backed away slightly, not hurt by her attack but looking apprehensive as his energy was used to break the drought. The mist rose, engulfing the stunted plants and swirling below windows. Still the clouds looked worried.

"Rain, we will be punished." They said as one.

"You agreed to come, did you not?" Rain retorted, her humor vanishing as her voice grew even shriller. "You agreed!" She started ripping handfuls of the cloud out, and pressing them into raindrops. A light drizzle fell on Carthak

"There." Rain finally declared, "I've broken the rule, and I didn't shatter or vanish. And I'll make it rain here if I have to rip you _all_ to pieces myself!"

The clouds looked at each other, then at the furious elemental. A shadow of doubt flickered through them, though all the citizens underneath were aware of was the sudden roar of thunder. They flinched at the anger in their mistresses' voice, and lightning lit the darkening mist. As one, they nodded and began to rain.

A blessing crashed to the parched earth.


	9. Chapter 9: Rescued Trust

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Remembering

Chapter 9: Rescue

REFORMATTED

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Rain.

Rain was thrashing against the window- rivers of it, the dry dust turned to a muddy mess in seconds. Daine blinked again, waking up slowly in the rapidly-cooling aviary.

An even colder nose pushed at her side. –Daine!-

The girl muttered something and closed her eyes again. A sound not unlike a sigh reached her ears, and after a second a strange, eerie energy flooded her veins and she was suddenly wide awake. She sat up with a gasp, staring at the Badger as if she'd only just realized he was actually there. And wondering what on earth he had done to wake her up.

"It won't last." The Badger God said, by way of explanation. "And I don't want to pour more magic into you, it'll just make you feel worse. We have to get that collar off you, and quickly."

Daine swiftly felt around the collar, searching for a joint or thin spot. There was nothing, just a smooth line of metal. "How?"

The Badger frowned. "There should be a seam, or something." Daine shook her head fretfully and dragged at the circlet.

"There isn't. Can't you just break it off or something?" Her face fell as he shook his head. The disappointment made her head start to hurt again. The Badger saw she was upset and tried to explain why he, a powerful, tough, clever (and modest) god, could not break a simple collar…

"It blocks wild magic, which is all I have- albeit in a very powerful, condensed form. We need a mage or one of the Greater Gods…"

"I'll help." A voice declared, shocking the Badger instantly to his feet and growling. Daine frowned at the speaker, feeling her new strength suddenly ebb away again. She had noticed him before, a vague figure in the shadow, but hadn't recognized him, or been bothered by him enough to tell the Badger that he was there. She was still half convinced she was asleep...

Now that he'd entered the light something about him seemed vaguely familiar. A corridor lined with royal portraits and lessons with the Riders flashed perplexingly through her mind. She blinked absently and tried to focus on an image, a memory, that would explain…

The Badger's voice cut roughly through her reflection, the order holding all the command he had as a god. –Stay awake, Daine!-

"I can remove the collar, I think." the man continued , addressing the animal god as if he'd talked to stranger things in his life, "And I have some experience with… the confinement of too much power."

-How do you even know what's wrong, human?- Growled the Badger, hackles rising. The man shrugged easily.

"Look at her." He said simply. The Badger turned and nudged again at Daine, thinking quickly and worriedly. The human seemed sincere enough, but there was something under the surface the god couldn't quite make out… on the other hand, help was needed…

-Go on then.- He snapped, turning to Daine and in the same breath warning her not to trust this man. She stirred and murmured slightly, and he uneasily wondered if she'd even heard.

The man nodded, not privy to the Badger's words to Daine, and knelt by her side. Quickly, he stroked the shining collar gently with an elegant finger, muttering arcane words under his breath. The collar gleamed for a second, and then fell into several pieces. Daine immediately started breathing easier, slipping into a deep fevered sleep. The Badger squinted at the pieces of collar.

-That's strange. I wasn't aware that Ozorne had access to such technology as that…- He blinked and looked up and the man. –Thank you.-

"Don't thank me yet. She's still ill. I need to drain off some of the power that burning her up." The man was looking at Daine intently, the sparkle of the gift around his fingertips. The Badger recognized the spell for the identification of power. "I think I can hold it until she's well enough to take it back."

The badger looked suddenly unsure. –Is that really necessary? I don't think it would be wise for you to possess…- He stopped abruptly, not wanting to let this stranger know about the God Power Daine carried. Alaric smiled behind his hand, his suspicions confirmed. And how lucky he was that this God was so gullible! As soon as he could trust himself to look serious he returned to convincing the Badger.

"Then, _you _would rather be infected with a diseased gift?" He cut in smoothly. The Badger snarled, irritated.

-Do what you must then! But don't expect me to stand up for you if you're caught with…- His voice tailed off as he listened to another voice, one the man could not hear. Slowly his fur bristled up, but he said nothing. When he spoke again his voice sounded strained.

-Take care of her, then.- He shook some stray dust from his fur and vanished in a burst of silver light. The man smiled slightly as he placed a tapered finger on each of Daine's temples, drawing out some of the excess power.

"Don't worry." He murmured under his breath, almost silently, "She's too valuable to die as yet." The gift hummed in his bones, a different kind of power than he'd known before, strong and weird and bound to the heavens. Inwardly, he was laughing in delight, although his face remained impassive as Daine blinked her way back into wakefulness. Her eyes slowly focused on him.

"Where's the Badger?" She asked warily, pulling herself upright and clinging onto a tree branch to support her swaying body. "More to the point: Who are you?"

The man bowed elegantly, though he forced his movements to look hurried. "I am Alaric, lady. A humble mage. And I need to get you out of here, quickly."

Relief shone in her eyes, tinged with wariness. _Why is he helping me? _She asked some nearby birds silently.

_Because I just murdered the Emperor, and need to make it look like I'm innocent._ Alaric replied.

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_Trust is a strange thing. Some people only trust themselves, while others trust anyone but. Trust places responsibility, which everyone tries their best to avoid._

_Trust can be seen in the eyes of a child who fears the monsters who fly at night, and knows you'll protect him. Trust can be seen in the eyes of an enemy soldier, bleeding to death on the battlefield, who trusts you to put him out of his misery. Trust can be deep and shallow, temporary or misjudged._

_There are lots of tales about trust. It is said that the King's Champion, when concealing her sex to become a knight, trusted only a thief with her secret. It is said that the king of Tortall entrusted his life to the hands of the Bazhir tribesmen, who many call savages, when he was but a prince._

_But these stories cannot be proven in this world. Trust is an instinct that only the trustee knows of. Trust can be lied about, concealed and broken. Maybe the Gods know of trust, but there even more stories of a God's broken trust than any mortal's._

_And the exact instant when trust is formulated… that is the true tale._

_Trust me._

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The storm raged outside, sheets of rain drenching the sun-browned wooden doors, and dulling the gleaming gold statues of the palace. The river swelled and burst from its banks, a wave of water that turned years of dry dust to sodden mud. Already, puddle-ridden pathways had turned to rivers, the silvery water running swiftly down the well-swept paving. Tiny rivulets of water seeped through gaps in the window frames, spreading into tiny lakes that joined as more and more water invaded the palace's spotless interior.

Rain raced cheerfully through the palace in a shining silver streak, searching every flickering fire with a mixture of mischief and malice. Her search had proved fruitless so far, but she was confident that she would end it soon. Grinning suddenly, she swept down on a large, spitting fire. As she approached it, a face formed in the flames. Its eyes glowed with a mixture of hate, fear and wariness as it looked at the shining water being.

"Don't come near me." It spat.

"I don't want to be turned to steam any more than you wish to be put out. I'm not stupid." The elemental retorted. She stood outside the hearth, a pool of water slowly spreading around her feet and rising toward the fire.

"You had me fooled, sister. Why are you even here?" The fire whined, flickering away from the hated water. "We're opposite elements- a danger to one another. We haven't even spoken for over a century. _What is it that you want_?" It's voice rose to a squeal as the embers under it began to die.

Rain sighed broadly, a gesture far too rehearsed for the fire to be convinced. She was counting more on his being unused to company than his being won over, since the last time she had seen him he had agreed to anything just to get her to _go away. _For the last hundred years the only elemental he had spoken to was Wind, and she didn't like him enough to be social. Sea and Rain stayed away from him out of necessity, so the fiery form was left on his own.

"What does it matter? You won't help with anything I want- too afraid for your own…skin." She cursed at the falter, distracted by the rising steam around her.

A smirk appeared among the roaring flames. "Skin? I don't think so. Go away." The face vanished. Rain grinned and crept away, gesturing silently towards the ceiling. The roaring beat of raindrops increased, small drops dripping through gaps in the rafters and splashing into fractional diamonds on the floor. One struck the fire with a hiss. The water on the floor continued to rise.

"I came to help you." Rain murmured to the squirming fire. It glared at her.

"I will go out." Said the fire flatly, drawing its flames away from the spreading puddles. Rain grinned and thought for a second, phrasing her words carefully.

"When a cup of mead is spilled on a roaring fire, and the whole thing goes out, the hot embers still remain."

"I am small!" The fire wailed, shrinking rapidly. "I cannot withstand a storm! I cannot make myself larger- I have no fuel! The humans all left when the flood started!"

"I'm sure you will find fuel," Said Rain, "In a wooden palace."

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Daine gaped at the man in amazement. He returned the look blankly, making her wonder whether she'd imagined him mind-speaking.

Privately, he was cursing. When he'd taken the gift he'd thought it was just the God gift, not the useless wild magic. Suddenly he had to guard his thoughts, just to stop this chit of a girl listening in? He deadpanned his face and watched her confusion.

_Be careful. _He warned himself. The girl thought that he was just a mage, not a threat or anybody important. He watched her curiously, wondering why the Gods would give the Life Magic to someone so weak and indecisive.

"Did you…?" She broke off the sentence and shook her head. "I'm sorry, my ears are ringing…" She broke off again and frowned at the birds. Alaric breathed a silent sigh of relief- his silence had paid off. Daine rubbed her forehead uneasily and tried to think.

"Get out! Get out! " Screamed a shrill voice, a silver streak in the air that vanished when she tried to make it out. She struggled to her feet, suddenly aware that the floor was covered in an inch of water, the birds screaming that the water level was rising. Alaric grabbed her arm as she stumbled and supported her until she regained her balance.

"What is it?" He asked.

"This is a near airtight room- the only vents are by the ceiling. And it's filling up with water. We have to get them out." Daine reached down and splashed a handful of icy water onto her face, waking herself up enough to think. "There are guards at the doors?"

The mage nodded, his own eyes thoughtful. "We can't get out that way. They'll call for reinforcements. And there's a seal on the doors that'll take some time to break."

"I'm not worried about _us_." Snapped the girl, "I can swim- they can't. And if we went through the halls they might get lost…No, we'll have to break the glass wall."

Alaric wondered who she was talking about, until a swarm of brightly coloured birds sped through the aviary and landed in the trees nearby. He could hear them speaking frantically to Daine, begging her to free them as she looked around for a weakness in the glass.

"It's magicked- hard to break through..." Alaric's eyes were expressionless. He tailed off as Daine grabbed a feeding tray and started smashing it against the glass, loud crashing echoes ringing from the metal tray and echoing off the stone walls. Annoyed, he grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the glass.

"Listen, you stupid girl," He hissed, pulling the tray from her hands and dropping it in the calf-high water. "I promised that Badger that I would look after you, but if you don't do what I tell you you're going to bring those guards in here and get us both killed. Now, stand still, away from the glass. And tell your precious birds to keep away, too."

Silently, looking mulish, Daine obeyed. The man muttered something under his breath a pointed at the glass wall. Instantly it exploded in a thousand glittering shards, daggers of glass flying halfway across the room, before falling into the water and vanishing in the dusty scum that covered its surface. As soon as the shards had fallen, every single bird took flight, escaping in a bright crowd of feathers and beaks. Daine sighed with tired relief and waded through the water, following Alaric through the broken wall.

"How did you do that? And when did you see the Badger?" She asked. The mage ignored her and pointed ahead.

"Can you climb that- or shapeshift to fly over it?" He asked. Following the direction he was pointing, Daine's heart sank. A huge wall, taller than most of the trees in the Royal Forest, encircled the palace grounds. On top of it was a double barrier of glass shards and metal spikes. Obviously Ozorne hadn't wanted anyone to get near his darling birds.

"I can't shapeshift. I'm finding it hard to stay awake as it is. Can't you break it down?" She asked quietly. Alaric laughed harshly.

"No. It's been built to keep out assassins, even magical ones. Ozorne didn't trust anyone." He smiled slightly, then turned and returned through the knee-high water to the aviary. "Come one- we'll have to take our chances with the guards, I'm afraid."


	10. Chapter 10: Death

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Remembering

Chapter 10: Death

REFORMATTED

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_It devours._

_It tears down all in its path, a wrenching, tearing, and savage streak of violence._

_It is anger without malice; it is passion without emotion. It is violence without intent; it is vivacity without life. It is a nonentity- a nothing made of nothing, a result with no cause. It comes from no-where, it cannot be explained._

_Of course, some believe these things to be alive, as elementals, lesser gods, or vengeful demons. When they strike the poor and desperate, these are the people that fuel the flames; these are the demons that strike the fire into a storm of liquid hate._

_Of course the gods know about it. Why wouldn't they? But the gods are also affected. They know of it, are painfully aware of it, and care deeply for those who are afflicted._

_And that is the root of the problem._

_For the god's first duty is not to care, but to sustain. Sometimes, when things grow beyond redemption, caring is not an option._

_And then the cities fall._

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The old woman grinned. From the stone seat in the wall she had the perfect view of the panic. Guards and slaves alike ran from the devouring flames, fear of their emperor lessoning as their lives came under threat. One slave- a skinny teenager bound magically to the palace- choked as he crossed the threshold to the entrance door, clutching the gold band encasing his throat.

"Now, we can't have that," muttered the Hag, flicking a ball of silver fire towards him. The band fell off, leaving the boy staring in wonderment at a shattered wealth of gold. He glanced around, but didn't see the graveyard goddess sitting not five feet away. Amazement turned to alarm as the supports above him groaned. Struggling to his feet, he dragged himself through the doorway just as the ceiling collapsed.

The old woman hadn't moved. Sighing slightly, showing gapped teeth, she hobbled out from under the rubble, amongst the rubble, and through the rubble, ignoring the glittering gems that gleamed in the water around her. With a humorless grin she eased herself onto a pile of fallen statuettes, and waited.

Time passed. The water that had once been slight puddles rose gently, lapping against the old woman's sandaled feet. Mumbling something blasphemous, she lifted her feet clear and spat into the nearest pool.

"Rain, you irritating elemental, show yourself." She grumbled into the empty hallway. For a second there was no response. The goddess's eyes narrowed, and then fixed on a nearby puddle.

The water swelled and spun, rising higher than the flood water and shimmering with every colour imaginable. The light from nearby flames reflected briefly in it, then a flash of lightning and the smoky swirls of rain clouds. Finally, a glittering woman arose from the pool.

Far larger than before, the elemental's crystal features had a crystalline clarity that amazed the eyes. She glared around her, annoyed at the distraction of the summoning. The old woman, however, was not intimidated.

"I'm getting wet." She complained, lifting her feet clear again of the rising tide. The elemental woman shrugged playfully, meeting the Hag's glare without flinching.

"It's raining, Goddess. Most people get wet in the rain." She quipped, flicking water from her fingertips as she spoke. The Graveyard Hag scowled again and glared at her.

"You and your friends have a fine way of _sorting a place out_, don't you? Flood, _and_ fire… but if you don't stop soon then this whole country will belong to your brother, the sea. I'm sure you don't want that, really. Especially since your human charges are also here." Her voice darkened, the reprimand reverberating around the wrecked room.

Lightning flashed in the elemental's eyes, lighting up the whole room and shining off many glittering jewel faces. She lifted her head insolently, dismissing the threat.

"You are not my goddess, lady." She said proudly. "I know what I'm doing. I can answer for my self, this time; I need no orders from you! You have not the power to…"

"You? Answer, then, for this chaos!"

Rain looked uneasy for the first time at the fury in the goddess's voice. She bowed her head silently, knowing the deference was too late, and tried to explain away the death and destruction. Each sentence she uttered made the Hag more and more furious. She remembered the reprimand, and explained that her human charge was safe- that she was with the mage, and they had been warned of danger. To her surprise, the goddess became even more furious.

"_You will destroy everything_!" The Hag shrieked "I banish you! You'll go to the Black God's realm, and you'll be damned before I ask you to help me again!"

The elemental screamed as fire burst from the summoning pool and lapped up her slender sides, consuming her. "Brother Fire—no!" She sobbed, suddenly terrified, pain driving her to her knees in the pool and beating at the fire with steaming hands. The fire obstinately burned the water with no fuel to aid it. The elemental's shrieks died away in the corridor as she disappeared.

The Hag sat down carefully, shuddering with the force of the power gone from her. The banishment of the elemental would take centuries to recover from. Weary, she leaned back against a blank-faced statue and studied the ceiling. Reflections of fire and water danced across it, lulling her to a state like sleep. Outside, the rain continued to fall unheeded.

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"Something made them flee." Alaric frowned at the discarded weapons outside the door. "A panic: see, they've left their weapons."

"You sound like a teacher, a little." Muttered Daine absently, examining the weapons. Alaric spread out his hands, preparing to search the palace with his gift. Now they were out of the cage, and the water was not rising as quickly, he could afford to be more cautious in their escape. He realized the girl had asked a question and struggled to answer it.

"I think… I used to be a teacher. I taught magic." He couldn't see Daine nod, though he heard the approval in her voice.

"Yes- you're like Numair." There was a clanking of weapons. Daine stood up with a short dagger, drying the rainwater from it with the edge of her shirt. Her voice was tired and vague, as if she were only talking to keep herself alert. "I was wondering… I thought I recognized you from somewhere before… did you ever teach the pages, in Tortall? I might have seen you there…"

Alaric, concentrating on his gift, didn't answer. Slowly, letting the light stream back into his hands, he turned to face the girl. His expression was oddly cold, as if he didn't care about what he was saying.

"The palace is on fire. We have to get out. Do you know where we are?"

Daine gasped. "Afire? Goddess… all those people…the slaves…" Her eyes were frightened as she looked down a corridor. "Kitten…"

Alaric scowled and shook her roughly. "I asked you a question, girl! Where is the nearest exit? Or would you prefer to be roasted, alongside all your stupid friends?"

Daine's eyes went blank. Alaric thought about shaking her again, before she blinked wearily and looked at him. Above them, the ceiling groaned ominously as the combined weight of water and debris shook its supports. Daine didn't spare the roof a glance as the looked around.

"Yes- I remember. The door's that way. It comes out halfway up a hill, so it won't be flooded." She indicated the flooded corridor to the left, away from the fire. "But, it's a long way…"

Alaric was already striding ahead. Daine caught him up, gasping for breath. "What are you doing? I can't walk that far! I'm sorry… look, you go ahead. There's no point risking your life for a stranger."

Alaric was sorely tempted. He could leave her there, fly from an open window over the flood the palace was in, and be safe. There was no other way to get out; the windows were unbreakable. The ceiling was collapsing. They would probably die, trapped in here. He shook the thought away, remembering her value. Annoying, irritating, ill, child as she was, she was still worth saving.

Muttering an apology, he slowed his pace slightly. Daine followed silently, pointing out the turnings they needed to make to get to the door that was above the water level. Apart from that, she just dragged her feet along in a kind of daze, clutching the dagger by the blade to keep herself awake. She would not give up.

Alaric cursed as they turned the next corner, into the great entrance hall. The ceiling had fallen in. There was no possible way they could get past. Frowning, he noticed that the water glittered more than usual; he eyed the stones glinting under the surface with a professional appreciation.

His gaze followed the wealth of jewels, coming to rest on an old woman who slumped across one of the fallen statues. She was gazing at him with a hostile recognition, never breaking the cold stare by blinking or looking away. Slowly, she dragged herself up and hobbled over to him.

"You." She hissed, her wrinkled skin practically giving off sparks.

"Me." He replied simply, facing the Goddess of death easily. She glared at him threateningly, seemingly irritated that his own face was flat and expressionless. Her gaze darkened, and Alaric felt the first real fear he could remember. Then, confusingly, she shrugged and turned to Daine, easing something gently out of the girl's grip and throwing it away.

Daine looked up from a daze, startled, and recognized the Hag. "You… not now, Goddess, I can't do anything now, I can't… you… I'm so tired… sorry, I can't…no…" She whispered, and fell in a dead faint.

The Hag sighed and glared at the man. "Pick her up."

"Why should I, Goddess?" Alaric returned challengingly. The goddess shrugged and glanced at Daine.

"She's important to you, isn't she? _I_ don't need her any more." She sat back at the ruins and met the man's stare, returning the challenge. "You can't get out this way- you may have noticed."

"Why don't you clear the way for us, Goddess?" Alaric snapped, picking up the girl's limp body with obvious distaste. The crone laughed sourly, finding real amusement in the idea and the man's anger.

"_Me_? I'll be damned if I ever help you. I'll tell you another way out, though, because you'll take Daine with you, of course."

"Of course, oh omniscient lady. I'll be pleased to, since _you_ don't need her any more." the man muttered sarcastically. The Goddess scowled anew, and pointed to her left.

"There's a slaves' passage that leaves the palace just about above water level. You'll have to go quickly if you want out. It's hidden behind the tapestry of the duke. And _Alaric_," she added as he started to leave, "they will find out. I'll make sure of it."

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_Death is the final end. It can be the end of time, the end of a world, the end of emotion- but it is always an end. _

_People cope with endings in many different ways. Some people see life as a book, and one ending only means the beginning of something else, a better story, a new start. They go through as many lives as they can, trying to find fulfillment in the perfect story. These people are the devourers. _

_Others see life as a treasure, and death as the price the treasure costs. Each person has their own value- the more precious a person, the heavier the price at their death. Gold and silver, emeralds and rubies, cannot measure up to the expense of losing a loved one. At the end of the day, you're only worth as much as you are loved. These people are the preservers. _

_Some people see death as a barrier, as a blockade separating them from greater things. Lives do not matter, only deaths are relevant. These people are the warriors._

_The fourth…_

_Have you ever met a monster?_

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Wind felt the loss of her sister instantly, a wrenching pain that shattered her mind. Howling, she fled to the skies, to the seas, to the lands. In a thousand pieces she split herself, screaming through every alleyway and forest, every plain and palace, crying out her loss.

The screaming wind drove both men and women inside shelter, clutching at charms and trembling with fear. Priests stood outside, braving the fierce gusts to shake their heads at the ill omen. Kings and Barons bit their lips and wondered at the furious storms, accounting for damaged barns and towers in their heads while comforting their children. The young hid their faces in their mothers' shawls, whimpering that the screams sounded like real people.

Eventually, weary and miserable, Wind calmed herself and hid, becoming little more than the breezes she commanded. As she sobbed dry tears, a tiny breeze crept up to her. Shyly, it unraveled. A forgotten whisper drifted on the breeze, a reminder of plans made with one now gone.

"_The greatest gift you can give to anyone is hope." _

Wind looked up. "I'm sorry, but I was wrong! Hope counts for _nothing!_ I'm sure _hope_ didn't stop my sister burning to death! I felt her pain, in every scrap of my being. And I loved her! But I was so glad when she died, when the pain stopped… and I'm sure _hope_ won't stop the Gods hunting _me _down."

The breeze offered little sympathy, its courage spent. Dust drifted uneasily across the ground, circling the crouched form of the Wind Elemental as she cried, each whimper a gasp of wind that sped away.

"I'm sure _hope_ didn't help that man, either! And what does _he_ know about trouble?"

The tiny breeze trembled slightly. Leaves rustled in the tiny breath of wind. _Why? _They said.

"Do you think he has any idea what it's like to…to be banished? To be dead, yet still alive? To be a piece in eternity for a hundred lifetimes or more? To have people hunting you down, trying to control you? Do you think he has _any idea?!" _

The breeze hesitated. It nodded, the movement shaking the branches of a nearby tree.

Wind's eyes glittered red, the spark that fueled fires and flattened saplings. "What the hell do you know?! You're just a… a puff!! You don't have _anything _to worry about! One day you'll get breathed in by some sewer rat, and that'll be the end of you!" She struck out at the tiny breeze, who dodged and flitted away.

Wind backed into the corner, and mourned.

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	11. Chapter 11: Fatal Beauty

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Remembering

Chapter 11: Fatal Beauty

NEW! 

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"It's your own fault, you know."

Daphaneal scowled at her brother. "How can it be my fault, pray? I'm stuck in a stupid form… with _feathers…_" She shuddered and looked in the river longingly, its deep depths now forever forbidden to her.

Her new reflection glared back at her. It was basically that of a bird. Silken feathers in shades of green and grey blended seamlessly into the face of a human- the same face she had always had. Now there were subtly differences- the eyes slanting upwards elegantly, the slits of gills gone, soft feathers framing the angular cheekbones and making her almost as beautiful as the goddess who had cursed her. The features were unattractively fixed with a nauseated expression.

"Feathers…yuk. I'm a _freak. _And the _air _out here is disgusting…it tastes like smoke."

"Should'a kept your mouth shut, then." Daneten flicked his tail unhappily in the shallow water. "Why are we out here, anyway? This water isn't even _salty."_

"You think you've got problems?! I…don't splash me!!" The Harpy shrieked, her voice as shrill as ever, shaking the water from her wings.

"Stop arguing, you two! I have a job for you!" A cracked voice boomed. The Harpy screamed and glared around, trying to cover her sensitive ears.

"Who the hell said that? You better stop playing around with us, mate, we're _immortals." _

"Good." Said the voice, "That means that this task should be easier for you. Of course, there will be certain…consequences if you fail…"

Daneten spun around in the water, his blue eyes glinting. "What about a reward, if we succeed?"

The voice sounded amused. "I'm sure you'll get what's coming to you. I will also give you a gift, to help you. Interested?"

Daphaneal preened her feathers and sat up slightly straighter. The voice laughed.

"Good. The spidren are already helping. Tortall is trying to destroy all the immortals. They can't stand the fact that a race superior to them has come into the world. There is one, in particular, who you must destroy if you wish for your race to live."

Daneten's eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Who is it? We'll tear them limb from limb!"

"Be careful, this is a remarkably clever and _sly_ human. You are not ready to face him yet. I'll send you on a…training mission first."

"Get to the damn point." Daphaneal glared at the sky around her, trying to locate the speaking spell. A slight glimmer in the air. A leaf, drifting passed, briefly took on the red glow of the Gift. The form of a human was briefly visable as the leaf brushed against it. _It's just a stinking human. Not a god, not an elemental, just some twit with too much magic for its own good. _He hissed in mind-speech to his sister. A small red tongue darted across her lips greedily as she looked around.

_Let's kill it. I'm hungry. _She cooed back. The red shape faded, but not before it had shaken a glowing finger warningly.

_Tsk, my dear Harpy. You should be quiet. _It told her, making her jump. She flapped her wings uneasily, glaring around again.

"You have our attention, mage." Daneten said, his voice warning his sister to settle down. "Show yourself."

There was a complete silence for a moment, then a soft laugh. "No… I don't think I will. You'll meet me eventually."

"What do you want us to do?" Daphaneal said, already growing bored of the power play between the two males. Daneten glanced at her and shrugged.

"We need no _training mission. _Who is this human you would have us kill? My sister will be more than happy to do it, at least."

"He shouldn't be too difficult to recognize. He is tall, dark hair, black gift." The mage said vaguely. "He is an inconvenience."

"Don't you even know his _name_?" Daneten asked. Daphaneal shrieked with laughter, launching herself from the rock and flying in random circles above her brother's head.

"You humans are so funny!"

"I assure you I'm not trying to be amusing. The man is a threat to you and your kind."

"And to you as well, I guess." Daneten smiled as he heard a sharp intake of breath, as if the mage's calm façade was fading. The air grew still and tense as the two males waited the other one out, each trying to work out how much the other knew, their strengths, their weaknesses…

Oblivious to this machismo, Daphaneal tossed her head and made a clumsy landing onto the rock. She affected a childish singsong as she spoke,

"I have seen the man you're talking about. He rode the weakest boat in the storm, and survived. He had a magic face on, but it was easy to see through. I wanted to grind his rotten bones into sand, but Father Sea protected him." Her meager list of facts ran dry at the thought; she looked wistfully into the depths of the water her brother swam in.

"Does Father Sea protect _you_?" The man said silkily, shifting his guile onto the more stupid immortal. Daphaneal frowned and shook her feathers distastefully. Daneten looked suddenly thoughtful, running the recent storm through his memory.

"No- but Father Sea never did." He looked up, his eyes blazing an angry silver. "Who is this man, to be favored over us?"

"Just a mage." The voice was dismissive, the flicker of amusement barely visible.

"Just a _mortal_." Hissed Daphaneal poisonously. Her brother flicked his fins furiously, glaring around for the red shape. When he found it, he nodded formally to it.

"Very well, mage, we will kill him." He promised, his eyes narrowing. Beside him, his sister gave a squeal of malicious laughter.

"It'd be our pleasure!"

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Daine woke up slowly, becoming more and more uncomfortable as she blinked her way into wakefulness. Something dug painfully into her back. She pushed herself upright and looked behind her at a small bronze statue. She had been sleeping on a pile of rubble. How strange…

But it wasn't that which had woken her up. The strange whistling, so familiar, carried on more urgently when she tried to work out where it had come from.

Looking around, she recognized the rubble of one of the many ornate entrances to the palace. She was just outside the doorway- safe from falling stone and timber, but soaked to the skin from the ever-falling rain. Looking down, she saw that the rubble she was sitting on was one in a series of small islands, surrounded by floodwater. Rough light from the dying fire in the palace flickered in the reflections.

Alaric was sitting cross-legged on another stone island, his eyes closed. Recognizing that he was meditating (though gods only knew _why_, he looked even more wet and miserable than she did) Daine decided not to disturb him. She stood up, surprised at how strong she felt, and walked in the direction of the whistling.

At first she picked her way carefully over the rubble, trying to find a dryer route. Gold and gems glittered below the rising water, thrown down with the bricks and stone until all that was left were occasional glints of wealth. A topaz shone from the shadows like an accusing eye. Daine stared back at it, realizing where she'd heard the whistling before.

She jumped into the surprisingly cold water and _ran_.

The immortal's menagerie was quickly filling up with water- another place guarded by Ozorne's unassailable walls. Praying that the spell on the doors had died with him, Daine pushed at the entrance. To her relief, the doors swung open. As she entered, the whistling stopped. It was replaced by screams and cries for help from the immortals trapped there.

Some of the cages had come magically unlocked when Ozorne had died, but were still heavily barred. The stormwing enclosure was open and empty, a silver feather embedded in the fastening- a makeshift lock pick. Less fortunate immortals cried uneasily as water flowed in their sunken cages, slamming themselves uselessly against the bars.

Kitten was out of her cage, but wasn't trying to escape. She'd been whistling locks open- the sound Daine had heard. But there were too many cages, and the water was rising too quickly… Kitten looked at Daine beseechingly and chirped, too busy to even greet her friend.

Not even stopping to hug the little dragon, Daine grabbed the feather from the stormwing cage and started attacking the locks. Kitten turned back to her whistling.

The immortals were in a panic. Most of them, the ones who were part-human, stood quite calmly while the cages were opened, and muttered their thanks as they scaled the walls to freedom. Even the more savage immortals were reserved, recognizing Daine and Kitten as helpers rather than as threats, or as food.

The immortals that were not part human Kitten left for Daine to free. She quickly assured them in mind-speak, calming them enough to let her near the cage without fear of being attacked.

The last immortal they freed was the insane winged horse, who snorted at the water in its cage angrily and shrieked every time either of them came near it. It landed a nasty blow on Kitten the first time she neared the cage, who squawked back at it indignantly and waited for Daine to finish freeing the spidren.

Daine looked at the last immortal uneasily, wondering how on earth to calm it enough to let Kitten open the cage. It whickered threateningly at her, its ears flattened against its skull. Its enclosure was sunk into the ground, and already the horse was knee deep in water.

Kitten chirped insistently, climbing onto a bench to avoid the water and shaking it from her wings. Daine thought for a moment, and then walked up to the cage. As the horse backed itself around to attack, she forced herself into it's mind. Fighting off the tendrils of insanity that surrounded her, she made herself calm down. As slowly as she dared, she pushed the thread of calm into the insane mind and held it there. The horse quietened.

Quick as a flash, Kitten leapt down from the bench and whistled the lock open. As soon as the cage swung open, Daine pulled away from the horse's mind.

For some reason, it was more difficult to free herself than she thought it would be. As she backed out, the black tendrils grabbed hold of her and pulled, trying to keep her trapped. As each one touched her, tangled emotions swept through her mind- a terrifying mixture of fear, anger, hate and confusion.

Scared, she dragged against the tendrils and ripped herself out of the horse's mind, hating herself for submitting the horse to that kind of shock. Robbed of the calmness, all of it's painful insanity swept back into place.

It screamed, a horrible grating noise, and threw itself at the cage. The door swung open. With a shriek, the horse launched itself out of the cage and into the raining sky.

"You know, he'll probably get even worse out there." Daine told Kitten uneasily. The dragon whistled her agreement as she was picked up and hugged. Kitten cooed comfortingly as a tear slid across her scales.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Kit!" Daine gulped, "I thought I'd never see you again!"

Kitten made a dismissive noise. She rested her head against Daine's cheek for a second, then whistled enquiringly as Daine started to leave the menagerie.

"Where are we going? Somewhere dry, I hope!" Daine answered.

888


	12. Chapter 12: Three Mages

Remembering

Chapter 12: Three Mages 

New!

888

_Here is one of the fundamental truths, the knowledge that can help or hinder:_

There is nothing you can do.

_As painful as it sounds, as horrible as it can be, some things cannot be healed. _

_In times of war, the people most in need of healers are the ones who can be helped the least. A man who screams from arrow wounds through the night is one who will die with the dawn. A man who suffers in silence will live. Because once the pain passes a healer's power, there is nothing that can be done. _

_In times of peace, the healing is still needed. Between friends, a few words can be unforgiving. An action can be as painful as a dagger wound. The world can fall apart, and there's nothing you can do. You cannot help, heal, forgive or forget. You can only despair. _

_The elementals tell a creation myth:_

_In the earliest days, the Gods saw this breach, saw the despair of the first men and women, and thought of a remedy for what seems like a hopeless situation. But, of course, being Gods, this method was flawed. They forgot that their own divinity was not mimicked on the earth. They gave the gifts to three groups of beings, and watched to see what would happen. _

_The first group was not pleased. What was given with benevolence was received with no thanks. For ever kind action the gods granted, their mortal children found their own flaws: _

_They created hope, so that the humans could create cynicism. _

_They created forgiveness, so that the humans could create bitterness. _

_They created love, so that the humans could create hate. _

_And thus the human race was created. _

_The second group received the gifts with thanks, seeing the power in the offerings. Blind to the beauty, they studied and controlled the gifts until the god-power from them was extracted. They used the power as part of themselves, telling the humans that this was the true purpose of the Gift. _

_And thus were mages created._

_In the third group, there were people who defended pure gifts. The ones who looked at the beauty of love, and of the world the gods had created. The ones who cherished. They spent their time with the humans, trying to give them their greatest gift- hope. They lived wild in the nature that surrounded them. They were few, but dedicated. They were the closest to divinity, and so the gods made them obey the rules of the immortal realms. _

_And thus were the elementals created. _

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The plan might have worked, if the rain hadn't started.

The plan might still have worked… if the palace hadn't caught fire

The plan might have worked anyway, but who was left to carry it out?

The plan wasn't going to work. Lindhall was quite disappointed.

After working so hard on such a complex magical simulacrum, it was annoying not to be able to show it off. The plan had seemed so perfect, and now there was no point using it!

When the rain had started, the river had risen at an incredible rate. The dust banks were baked as solid as stone in the bright sun, and the water simply overflowed. Boats had capsized, floated away, or run aground. Bridges washed away. It was impossible to cross.

Driven from their posts beside their river by the stinging rain, swarms of Carthaki guards and soldiers ran into the university. Strangely enough, the stampede for shelter didn't begin until all the men were soaked anyway, as if they were waiting for something before they moved. Laughing and joking with the students, they set up a temporary camp in the entrance hall and settled down to wait out the weather.

Despite their casual attitudes, they were deceptively alert. No mage could come within ten meters of them without being challenged. The words were light hearted: "Hey, glitter-fingers! Think you can magic yourself up a patch of sunshine? Better stay in here then!" But the meaning was clear- _something_ was going on, and everyone should stay where they were or _get in trouble. _

Lindhall risked a trip down into the hall, stepping lightly on the slippery marble. The throng of soldiers was dense, an effective barrier between the stairs and the exit. Without appearing to, the regiment had completely isolated all the mages from the palace. Lindhall sighed and turned back to his apartment, idly musing on the political implications of this military maneuver…

And so it happened that the two great mages, instead of being able to search for Daine, were stuck in Lindhall's small apartment watching the water rise. Flying out of the window was out- the rain was falling like lead, weighing feathers down.

Like the true academics they were, they used the time to have long arguments and point out the obvious. As is usual in these situations, they were beginning to get on each other's nerves.

Numair paced the university rooms frustratedly, glaring across the river at the palace that was so close, yet so impossible to reach. Lindhall tried to calm him down without much success.

"You've been gone for weeks. A few hours won't make that much difference. It never rains for long here, you know that."

"But it's flooding. What if he's keeping Daine in one of his godsforsaken underground cells? If the palace floods he won't care about anything except his own wretched skin…"

"I'm sure she's fine." Lied the other mage, wondering what he should suggest. From the look of the grim generals downstairs, something was seriously wrong in the palace. And Ozorne was very good at making sure everyone else suffered with him. "If nothing else, he thinks he needs her to look after those birds. And he does care about _them_."

Numair threw up his hands in a defeated gesture and leaned against the window. "But I can't _do _anything! I got so close, and now I'm stuck here! It seems that I can't do anything right, any more. I should never have left Carthak in the first place! And it's worse than that! On the way here, I saw…"

"Saw?" Lindhall prompted, glad for the abrupt change in conversation topics. Numair half-shrugged, as if he wasn't sure of the answer.

"I don't know. I only saw him for a moment, but it's impossible." He smiled in self-mockery at the answer, and glanced out of the window. Something was wrong…

"Stop evading the question!" Lindhall demanded, slipping into his 'teacher' mode. Numair risked another look out the window, not sure he could believe what he was seeing.

"I think the palace is on fire." Stated the most successful 'question evasion' of all time. Lindhall stared at him, his eyes wide, before rushing to the window. For a while there was no discussion, just the awed silence of people who can't believe their eyes.

For over an hour they remained motionless, hardly daring to speak in case they were both imagining things. The most elaborate, beautiful architecture in the world, the city that both men had lived in for years, was crumbling before their eyes.

At one point, a stream of colorful birds erupted from the center of the palace, fighting against the rain to make their way across the river. Numair smiled and watched them land in the shelter of the stable.

"I think Daine's alright." He told Lindhall. The older man raised an eyebrow in mock surprise and gestured at the fire.

"Who else would have burned down the palace?"

And later:

"There's lots of debris in the river." Numair commented.

"There's debris everywhere." Lindhall said, watching the damage with detachment. Clouds of steam were billowing up from the flood, covering the land in mist and blocking the view. There _was_ wreckage in the river- planks of wood, crates from the docks upstream, and even the occasional lump of stone being dragged along by the heavy current. Small boats, ripped from their moorings upriver, crashed against the banks and dislodged larger boats and more rubble. The water boiled and raged like the fury of the Gods themselves.

"It's all collecting over there- there must be a shallows or something. Maybe we could cross, is what I'm suggesting." Numair continued, not sharing his friend's fascination with the destruction.

Lindhall blinked and looked in the direction the other mage was intently studying. The temporary ford looked about as safe as a cobweb harness.

"We can't get out of the university." He said.

"We _can_." Numair grinned and gestured at the empty barracks. "All we need is a diversion." He muttered something under his breath and pointed at the building, which exploded in black flames. Shouts from the soldiers echoed along the hallway as they ran towards the wreckage, looking for the "attacker".

"You know, magic is a versatile, complex gift." Lindhall muttered petulantly as he followed Numair out of the building. "You could have made any kind of diversion- an illusion, a summoning… so why are you and Daine intent on just using it to burn things?"

"It's more fun."

888

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A/N: Very sorry for how short my chapters have been recently- had lots of exams at college. They finish in a fortnight, and I have all summer to write in, so should finish both this story and Forest in the next few months.

I've also realized how little I'm actually saying in each chapter, and thinking maybe I should make each one twice the length, so their more self-conclusive and less… episodic. I'd really value all your input in this!

Do you think the chapters average out at too long, too short, too detailed, too slow, too fast… what?

Thanks :) x-Viv-x


	13. Chapter 13: Immortal Mortality

888

Remembering

Chapter 13: Immortal Mortality

New!

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Lindhall stared uneasily at the bridge that spanned the flooded river. It almost seemed alive, with timbers crashing against it and washing away just as abruptly. Waves crashed over the more solid stones, making them slippery and throwing more debris against the rock.

"Are you quite sure you want to cross that?" He said uneasily, suddenly glad that Numair had asked him to stay on this side of the river. His job was to keep the soldiers occupied with more crude diversionary tactics, or, as his friend had put it, "Just blow something up and look innocent."

Numair didn't seem dissuaded by the look of the bridge; already he was testing the strength of a plank of wood. He looked around at Lindhall's question and smiled.

"It could be worse." He looked back at the bridge, planning his route. "You'd better hurry."

"You mean _you're _in a hurry." The older mage sighed dramatically and turned away. "Gods all bless, you insane fool."

"Good luck."

Numair turned back to the bridge and shuddered, letting his fear out now that his friend had gone. Finding the sturdiest looking path, the mage spread his hands over the water and sent a burst of ice across the bridge. The torrents of water that were pouring over the wreckage froze instantly into rough spikes-more sturdy than before, but more slippery. Upstream, the water began to rise against the temporary dam.

He was halfway across, arms extended like a dancer's for balance, when he heard the laughter. A screeching, high pitched giggle, as cold as the ice he balanced on.

Cautiously, he raised his head and looked around him. There was no-one else on the bridge, no-one on the shore, and the evening sky was too dark for anyone further away to see him.

The laughter sounded again- closer, harsher, like a rusting dagger being drawn from a copper sheath. And yet, somehow, beautiful…

Like many doomed mariners before him, Numair listened to the Siren's song. Even as his ears began to ache at the scythe-sharpness of each note, he longed for the next. All he could think of was the music…

He looked up, wondering where the laughter-song was coming from, the song that his ears loathed and his heart wanted to follow. Circling high above was a bird- a bird? He squinted at the deformed shape, and the dam shattered.

He spun, trying to fall upriver so he wouldn't be washed downstream. The water was like ice after the desert heat of the day. The roar of water drowned out the song, and suddenly he could think again.

The current pushed him back against the dam, crushing the air out of his lungs. Coughing, he grabbed hold of a protruding branch and pulled himself half out of the water. The branch felt ridiculously warm, as if someone had been pouring hot water over the ice to break the bridge.

He looked around for the culprit, slipped off the dam… and the action saved his life. The crude blade swept past his neck by inches and crashed into the water. Silver spray flew up, blinding the mage as he slipped back into the water. Slender but muscular arms wrapped around him as soon as he was in the water, dragging him down to the bottom of the river. They held him there in a vice grip, never slipping or weakening even when the current pulled them against the riverbed.

Numair struggled briefly, then wondered why. With almost casual speed he forced himself to calm down and summoned a wind. The breeze twisted into a waterspout, pulling the water back towards the surface and up, throwing debris, water, Numair and his attacker heavily into the dam.

The mage lay still for a moment, catching his breath, then forced himself to stand up. Whoever his attacker was, he didn't want him to get his hands back on that sword. He looked around, and then spotted a sodden shape a few feet further along the bridge. Balancing with care, the mage inched towards him.

The merman glared at him as he flopped hopelessly against the wreckage, trying to pull his suddenly weak body back into the water. The roaring wind and the blowing dust hurt him as, deprived of even small drops of water, his body began to wither.

"Curse you, Mage-Mortal!" Daneten yelled, dragging himself with his hands towards the dumbstruck Numair. "Curse you and all your kind!"

"Who are you? Why did you attack me?" The man made a helpless gesture. "Great Mithros…_What_ are you?"

Daneten laughed harshly as his sister landed beside him, keening and trying to drag him towards the water. The uneven stacks of driftwood and rubble made it impossible- to get out, he'd have to climb. "I think we lost out on this deal, sister." He said wryly, stroking the bird-woman's head fondly. The movement made fine dust rain from his hand, as if he were made of sand.

"What deal?" Numair walked slightly closer, then backed away as the Siren screamed at him.

"The Dead Mage! Twice mortal, now immortal- he broke the _rules!" _Her voice cracked as her brother's beautiful scales faded grey and lifeless. Daneten grimaced, then looked directly at the mage.

"You wish to know who will kill you, Mage-Mortal? The Gods sent us to watch him, to stop him. We thought we could do this by doing his work. We die, but it matters not- and the Gods will kill him in the end. But I think he will kill you first!" He smiled beautifully, silver teeth flashing sharply. "He knows the thrill of the kill! As do you, Mage-Mortal!"

Daphaneal snarled as her brother's voice became weaker and weaker. Before he turned to dust, she launched herself into the air and circled above the damn.

"You will die, Mage-Mortal! I will feast on your eyes!" She screamed, and sped away into the night sky.

Numair sighed and made his way across the bridge, circling around the pile of silver sand that lay just out of reach of the river.

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"What were you doing?" Daine asked when Alaric opened his eyes. The mage blinked a few times, as if dust had got into his eyes.

"Hunh?" He said blearily, focusing on the girl. She pulled a face and repeated the question, wondering if he'd just fallen asleep sitting up or something.

"I said, what were you doing? You were meditating for an awful long time. On a pile of rock, I might add, in the middle of the biggest storm of the decade. Not even _Numair's_ that dedicated."

"I was?" the man's voice was still bleary. Daine scowled impatiently and sat up straighter, shifting the sleeping Kitten to a more comfortable position in her arms.

"Well, you might just have been pretending to be the world's first breathing statue, but…"

"Shut up, girl." Alaric muttered, clutching his head. Daine had fallen silent, watching him warily.He forced himself to smile in her general direction.

"I'm glad to see you're feeling better." He said. "Can you think of anywhere dry near here that's not on fire?"

The girl looked thoughtful, absently stroking what Alaric assumed was a cat or small dog in her arms. She was drenched, but didn't look as tired or sick as she had in the menagerie. She was also asking too many questions, her grey eyes were too sharp to miss much now. Alaric warned himself to be careful around her.

"The temples?" She said, unaware of his scrutiny. "It's a bit of a walk, but…"

"No. Not the temples." Alaric interrupted, "The gods won't look too kindly on…me." _Damn this headache! Why did I say that! _He raged at himself. Daine's eyes had narrowed at his statement.

"If it makes you feel any better, if you hadn't killed Ozorne I would have done." She said, steel running through her words. "The Gods will waive judgment as far as Carthak's concerned, anyway." Alaric shot her a strange look- half frustrated, half relieved.

"What about the university?" Daine asked eventually.

"It's across the river." The mage said, his voice flat as he splashed rainwater on his aching head. Some colour had come back into his face. "But, I suppose it's worth a try." He staggered to his feet and began walking in the direction of the river, and then realized the girl wasn't following him. She was watching him with a puzzled expression.

"It was an immortal, wasn't it?" She asked, her voice confused. "You were in an immortal's mind. Don't you know better than to do that?"

"I…" Alaric started walking again, thinking quickly. "It was necessary."

"It'd have to be, I think…"

"You think too much!" the mage snapped. "I saved your life! I don't owe you anything and I certainly don't have to explain myself to you!" He stamped off through the water, kicking up spray angrily.

"I'm sorry!" Daine called after him. Receiving no answer, she sighed and stood up. The movement woke up Kitten, who chirped enquiringly.

"Just another grumpy mage, Kit." She soothed teasingly. But her eyes were thoughtful as she followed Alaric towards the river.


End file.
